


Daughter of Death

by MissieMoose



Series: Zhu's Tale [1]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Mulan (1998)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Crossdressing, Demonic Possession, Demons, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Loneliness, Physical Abuse, Realization, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: Raised by her uncle Shan Yu and his elite, Zhu became a coldhearted killer. But when she disguises herself as a Chinese soldier so she can kill the Emperor’s advisor, she finds herself growing close to a group of four oddball soldiers. When they’re called to the front lines, she starts to question who she’s now more loyal to: Shan Yu or her newfound friends.





	1. Chapter One

 

He had felt watched all day.

When his customers came into the store, seeking herbs and roots to aid in their health, the old man wore a jovial smile and acted as if nothing were wrong. The moment they left, however, he was on high alert. He had even grabbed a broom and swept the area in front of his store, hoping to see if anything outside was amiss.

But everything was normal.

Every _one_ was normal.

By the time evening fell and it was time to lock up for the night, nothing terrible had yet to happen. He blew the candle out in the front of the store and retreated to the back half of the building -his home.

His wife having passed three years earlier and their sons had been lost to war, leaving him alone to care for himself. It wasn’t very hard for him; one person didn’t make much of a mess or eat much in the way of food. It was lonely, though, and he found himself often wishing to have his wife’s company -and cooking- once again.

While he prepared his meal, he had an old, battered kettle heating over the fire. By the time he was ready to cook his meat and vegetables, steam was billowing from the neck of the kettle. Tossing his ingredients into a bowl, he covered them with the boiling water -not the tastiest method for making soup, he knew, but he wasn’t much in the mood for eating- and then shuffled across the small kitchen to grab a fresh brick of tea.

As he reached for the brick, he paused. He could have sworn he had heard something rustling. He looked around the kitchen, trying to find anything that could have made the noise; a mouse, a snake, a cat, _something_.

“Ancestors help me,” he murmured, shaking his head when he found nothing. “I must be going insane…”

Returning to the brick of tea, he broke off a chunk and, after pounding it to dust in his mortar, he poured it into the kettle. At last, his meal was complete. Grabbing his bowl and the kettle, he carried them over to a small table and set them down.

A quiet grunt left his mouth when he eased himself down onto the cushion. His knees ached from the effort, but it was nothing new. They had ached for years.

The old man poured himself a cup of tea; it was made with ingredients that would help relieve the pain in his joints. It wasn’t the best tasting concoction, but it helped. He blew the steam from the tea’s surface a few times before daring to take a sip.

It was still fiercely hot, but the warmth that spread through his body made the pain worth it. A content sigh left his mouth.

But again, there was a strange rustling noise.

He didn’t have time to turn before an arm wrapped around his throat. His nose was pinched shut and his mouth covered. The old man tried to struggle, but the person holding him was far stronger. It took some minutes, but eventually, his body went limp as he fell into unconsciousness. The person held him for a moment longer before releasing his nose and mouth.

“Sorry, grandfather,” the assailant whispered, easing the old man onto his side. “You should thank your ancestors I don’t like killing elderly people.”

Standing upright, she grabbed a candle from the center of the table and headed into the front of the store. She made sure to shield the majority of the light, only allowing enough to pass through her fingers to let her read the labels on the vast amounts of drawers.

‘Ginger…galangal…no. I need the mixtures,’ she thought, carefully picking her way through the store. ‘I watched him make it just yesterday; he _has_ to have it here _somewhere_.’

Letting just a touch more light shine through, she made a quiet sound of achievement: She had found the mixtures on a shelf towards the front of the store. With a small smirk, she crouched low to the ground and set the candle down.

She then reached into her coat, pulling out a cloth bag. It already had something in it, but that didn’t matter. “Alright, grandfather, let’s see how much of this medicine you’ve got,” she whispered, opening the bag. Then, finding the right drawer, she slowly drew it out so as to avoid making any noise.

Her eyes lit up; the drawer was practically full. “Shan Yu is going to be pleased by this…” she whispered.

A groan from the other room caught her attention. Silently cursing, she dumped the entirety of the drawer’s contents into the bag.

‘Waking up already?’ she thought, shoving the drawer back into the cabinet.

The old man cursed; it sounded like he was fully awake by this point. The thief blew out the candle, but stayed low to the ground. Nearing the doorway separating the front of the building from the back, she pressed herself against the wall as she heard footsteps coming in her direction.

Light spilled into the room and the man came limping in. “Who’s there?!” he called out. Holding up the lantern, he bathed the room in front of him with warm light. “Come out, you coward!”

‘If I were a coward, I would have killed you and made this an _easier_ job,’ the thief thought, rolling her eyes. With the old man distracted, she darted back into the living quarters. She quickly made her way into the dark hallway; the old man’s voice grew fainter as she headed for the end of the hall. From there, she made her way through the dark into the old man’s bedroom.

Her eyes adjusting to the total darkness, the thief made her way through his room, towards the open window. With a hop, she pulled herself up and out, closing the shutters behind her. There was a triumphant smirk on her lips as she hurried away from the building.

The dark, moonless night made for perfect cover and she was able to reach her horse with no trouble.

“Come on, sister,” she quietly told the mare as she mounted it. “Let’s go find Ruga and Mundzuc. They can’t have gotten too far.” She gave a slight tug on the reins and the mare turned, taking off at a trot into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

“She’s _late_.”

“No; you’re just _impatient_.”

Mundzuc cocked his brow, looking across the campfire at his companion. “Impatient? No.” He poked at the fire with a stick, gathering the coals into the center. “She was supposed to be back before the moon was halfway through the sky.” Using the stick, he gestured at the sky. “Well, the moon is _more_ than halfway through and she isn’t back. Either she’s been found, she’s lost, or she got herself killed.”

“She’s _none_ of those,” the other man, Ruga, argued. “She was more than likely forced to wait longer than she planned.” He sniffed before spitting into the flames. “You know as well as I do that she wouldn’t have gotten herself caught.”

Mundzuc grunted. “She’s young. We’ve taught her well, yes, but young warriors are cocky. They’ve too much pride that hasn’t been beaten down yet.”

Ruga stared at him, a bland look on his face. “For nearly thirty summers, she’s been with us. For _fifteen_ of those summers, we’ve been teaching her how to be one of us. If she’s learned anything from that training, it’s how _not_ to let her pride get in the way of her duty.”

“You only say that because you and Roua trained her.”

“We’ve _all_ trained her. Including _you_.” He sneered at Mundzuc as he rolled his eyes. “In fact, she wouldn’t even _be_ on this mission if _you_ hadn’t trained her in stealth.”

Not having anything in the way of a rebuttal, Mundzuc grumbled as he stood up and walked away from the fire. Ruga smirked to himself as his victory.

It was as Mundzuc was returning to his spot by the fire when they both heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Both men looked in the direction of the sound and shielded their eyes from the light of the fire. Squinting, they could just barely see the silhouette of a horse and rider coming towards them.

“Told you she’d be here.” He didn’t much care when Mundzuc reached over and gave him a light kick.

“She’s still _late_ ,” he grumbled.

Turning back towards the fire, Ruga grabbed a large stick that was speared through a roasted grouse carcass. He stabbed it into the ground so that the meat could warm up next to the fire.

Just a few minutes later, the rider arrived. Hopping off her horse, she tied the reins to a low branch where two other horses were standing.

“You’re late,” Mundzuc told her as she sat down.

“Sorry,” she replied. “The shopkeeper took his time closing up shop.” She pulled off her cap and sighed. “I tried to be quick, but I couldn’t risk him finding me out.” She thanked Ruga as he handed her the re-warmed grouse.

Ruga smugly grinned at Mundzuc. “I _told_ y-”

“If you want to keep your tongue, you _won’t_ finish that sentence,” he growled, rolling his eyes.

Zhu cocked her brow as she chewed some meat and looked between the two men. Ruga -and his twin, Roua, for that matter- had never really gotten along with Mundzuc, so why Shan Yu had sent the two on the mission, she would never know. She knew better than to question their leader, though, so she merely shook her head.

Something seemed off about Mundzuc, though. His skin looked a bit paler than normal and he was grumpier than usual. Most times, he was able to join in when the others made jokes.

“What was it Shan Yu had you get?” Ruga asked, distracting her.

She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her coat. “I can’t say.”

Mundzuc tucked some of his long hair behind his ear. “If you had to pillage two shops in order to get whatever it is, it must be important.”

“It is.” She tore a leg from the grouse and began picking the meat off.

“Is it big?” Ruga questioned, glancing at her then at Mundzuc.

She tossed away a bit of cartilage. “I _told_ you: I’m _not_ telling. If I were to tell you and Shan Yu were to find out, his elite would be down to five instead of six.”

Ruga somewhat pouted. Taking notice of how quickly she was eating the grouse, he raised his brow. “When was the last time you ate?”

She paused, thinking it over. “Before dawn, I believe.” Using her teeth, she tore a chunk of meat from the breast.

Mundzuc sighed, closing his eyes. “After you’ve eaten, go straight to sleep. We’re leaving shortly after dawn.”

“What, no bedtime story?” joked Zhu, earning a snort from Ruga. She grinned teasingly as Mundzuc opened an eye to glare at her.

As the smaller man grumbled to himself, Ruga sighed. “Ignore him. He ate some bad meat a few days ago and he’s only _just_ finished paying the price.”

Zhu’s brow rose somewhat as she looked at Mundzuc with a slight bit of concern. “Really?”

“A bit of my dried meat hadn’t been dried well enough,” he sighed.

“Did you have enough supplies on hand to help you through it?”

Ruga nodded. “He wasn’t able to keep much food down, though he was able to drink plenty of ginger-mint tea.”

“I was able to eat a bit of meat today,” Mundzuc grumbled. “ _Fresh_ meat, mind you.”

She nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He grunted, saying nothing in return as he shifted himself further between the tree’s roots. Zhu knew this was one of his many ways of irritably saying thanks.

When she could eat and drink no more, Zhu got up and walked some ways away to relieve herself. Ruga was laying down with his bedroll by the time she got back. He didn’t seem to have any intention of going to sleep, however, as he propped himself up on an elbow and poked at the fire with a stick.

“I’m taking first watch,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet so as to not disturb the now-sleeping Mundzuc. He watched as she laid out her bedroll near him. “Did you have to kill anyone while you were on your mission?”

She nodded, folding up her cap to use as a pillow. “Just one.”

He looked surprised. “Only one? Your last mission you got _ten_.”

“My last mission was to _kill_ the eldest sons of a rival clan leader,” she reminded him, voice bland. Sighing, she laid down and closed her eyes. “My ribs _still_ ache at times from that mission and it was nearly a year ago.”

“You came back with three broken ribs,” he reminded her, “on top of a broken nose, a split lip, two black eyes, and a dislocated knee. It’s a wonder you came back at all.” He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head; the sigh sounded rather exasperated. “You’re just lucky Edeco is our best healer.”

Zhu rolled her eyes. “I’m just lucky I was able to get the job done. If I came back without their headers, Shan Yu would have had mine.”

“Not true. He may have only taken your tongue.” He smirked when he felt her lightly kick him in the back. “Get some sleep, Zhu. Tomorrow, we make for the Great Wall.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was an eerily quiet night; even the insects remained silent. In the sky above, heavy clouds blocked out the moon and the stars, leaving the three riders trusting in their horses to navigate a path through the trees. It was a well-earned trust, though, and their horses were able to easily pick their way around tree trunks and bracken.

Suddenly, the forest gave way to a wide, open strip of land. The riders let out a gasp of awe: Standing tall before them was a massive, stone wall seemingly carved from the earth itself: The Great Wall of China.

“Are you sure this is the right tower?” Ruga whispered, his eyes wide as he stared up at the wall.

Mundzuc squinted at the night sky, searching for something. Then, he lightly smacked Ruga’s arm and pointed to a barely-visible dot in the sky. “There’s Hayabusa,” he whispered. “We’re at the right spot.”

“Good. I need to stretch my legs,” Zhu said, dismounting her horse. “I’ll go see what their patrols are like.”

Before the other two had the chance to dismount, she crept off into the shadows. The land south of the wall was left bathed in darkness thanks to the long shadow it cast. This suited them perfectly; the last thing they wanted was to be seen.

Zhu made her way towards the beacon tower. The closer she got to it, the more she noticed that the wall hadn’t been carved at all -it was built of bricks. The ones at the base of the tower were larger and darker in color while the rest were long, thin, and lighter in color. She admired the craftsmanship; the wall had been mortared so that it was as flat as possible.

‘That’ll make climbing a bit harder for the others,’ she thought with a frown.

Once she was closer to the beacon tower, Zhu knelt down on the ground. Above her, the falcon continued to circle the area, letting her know that she and the others still had time to accomplish their part before the signal was given. On the wall, she could see the silhouette of a single, patrolling soldier.

Looking back to the tower, she saw that there were two sets of stairs -one on the east side and one on the west side. Idly chatting between the stairs were two guards; judging by their relaxed stance, they hadn’t any idea of the danger lurking nearby. A warm glow was coming out of the doorway on the eastern stairs and she could just barely see shadows of more men inside.

‘I’ll have to take out those two guards so no alert is given to the ones inside,’ she thought, narrowing her eyes. She pulled her bow from her back, unwinding the string from the grip and placing it in the notch. Then, slowly, she drew an arrow and nocked it.

A noise behind her caught her attention and she looked over her shoulder. Ruga and Mundzuc were approaching her. The men knelt on either side of her, observing the scene before them.

“Two guards outside,” she told them, her voice a whisper, “and one on the wall. More men are inside the tower. I don’t know how many, but expect them to put up a fight.”

Ruga glanced down at her. “You’ll have to be quick with that bow of yours. Once you bring one guard down, the other is going to try to shout.”

Her eyes focused on the guards as she waited for them to move ever so slightly. “Or I can bring them both down with one arrow.”

The guard on the western side took a step closer to the guard on the east, laughing as he gave him a playful smack upside the head.

“You’re not Bleda,” Mundzuc frowned as she drew back the bow. “I will _kill_ you if you mess this-”

The eastern guard shifted his weight to his other leg, bringing him perfectly in line with his companion. Zhu let go of the bowstring. The three Huns watched as the two guards fell to the ground in unison, clawing at the arrow piercing both their throats.

Neither Mundzuc nor Ruga congratulated her on her shot. Instead, they both jumped to their feet and hurried forward to drag the bodies out of sight of the soldier on the wall. Zhu drew another arrow and nocked it before creeping forward. By the time she reached the base of the stairs, the two men had finished their task.

Drawing his sword, Ruga started up the stairs. Mundzuc, following his lead, drew his own sword and started to head up the stairs. Zhu took up the rear, her bow still at the ready. As she reached the top landing, though, Mundzuc grabbed the front of her coat and shoved her against the wall.

“When Hayabusa gives the signal,” he whispered harshly, “ _stay out of our way_. Shan Yu may trust you to not fail, but _I_ don’t.”

Used to such threats from him, she raised her brow. “Doubting Shan Yu’s leadership?” she replied, voice ice-cold. “He wouldn’t like to hear that.” A hiss of pain left her mouth as he backhanded her, the force splitting her lip.

She knew she would come to regret backtalking him, but she didn’t expect to regret it so _soon_.

“Next time, I’ll carve out your tongue,” he threatened, letting go of her coat. He watched with mild amusement as she spat some blood onto the ground before turning around. Ruga was glaring at him, but he ignored the glare and instead looked at the sky.

As he did so, Hayabusa gave a shrill cry and tucked in his wings, beginning to descend.

Zhu watched the two men run into the tower. As surprised curses came from inside, she grumbled and skulked towards the doorway, her sleeve pressed against her lip. Her brows rose in surprise as a soldier went flying past her, over the edge of the landing. Stepping forward, she watched as he fell the nearly twenty feet to the ground only to land face-first on the ground.

Somehow, he had survived the fall, though it was clear he was in a great amount of pain. Zhu tilted her head, watching as he started to crawl forward. She drew her bow and fired the arrow, hitting the man in the back of the neck. With an indifferent shrug, she spat more blood from her mouth and turned back around.

Blood was starting to ooze out onto the landing. She dared to poke her head through the doorway only to find the bodies of seven men sprawled across the floor.

‘They never were the cleanest,’ she thought with a sigh. ‘At least they got the job done.’ Crossing the room, she was forced to walk through the growing puddle of still-warm blood.

She was about to head up another flight of stairs when the door on the western wall of the tower burst open. A single soldier came racing in, his eyes wide with fear. He had his mouth open, ready to tell his companions of the danger outside, but the words fell silent in his throat as he saw their bodies.

He looked up, staring at Zhu with horror and hatred in his eyes.

“If you want to see the morning, then _run_ ,” she sneered at him.

The soldier, his skin as white as the moon by now, spun around and sped back outside.

“Aren’t you going to kill him?” Ruga had come back down the stairs, his chest and arms splattered with the blood of his victims.

She shrugged. “Why waste the arrow? Someone else will do the job for me.”

He gave a small nod of agreement before starting back up the stairs. “Come. Shan Yu wants to speak with you.”

Zhu followed him up the stairs, taking care to not slip thanks to her blood-soaked boots. When they reached the top landing, she could hear a great deal of commotion outside. Stepping through the doorway, they were greeted by the sight of dozens of Huns climbing over the wall and onto the parapets; the invasion had begun.

Ruga pointed to the top of the tower where a hulking figure was silhouetted against the beacon fire. Her brow rose when she saw the broken ladder, but then a curse left her mouth as Ruga crouched down and grabbed her by the legs. He hoisted her up, allowing her to grab the edge of a merlon and pull herself up.

The figure didn’t turn to look at her as he watched the Huns climbing up the wall. “Shan Zhu,” he said, his voice both soft and harsh at the same time.

She bowed respectfully. “Shan Yu.” Though he was her uncle, she knew better than to call him such when they weren’t alone. It would show weakness, he had once told her, and weakness was not something a Hun showed.

He turned, staring down at the young woman. “How much were you able to get?”

“Enough to last you at least three months,” she replied, standing upright.

“Good.” Reaching out, he caught her chin between his thumb and index fingers. He gently forced her head back, letting the firelight better illuminate her face. “Mundzuc’s work, I take it?” he questioned, running his thumb along her swollen lower lip.

She somewhat flinched as he touched the injury; she avoided making eye contact with him. “Yes. My own fault; I backtalked him.”

“A just punishment,” he told her, letting go.

Saying nothing, she merely nodded.

Shan Yu turned his back on her once more. “I have another mission for you, Zhu. One you won’t start _quite_ yet, but it is vital to the success of this invasion.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What is it you’ll have me do?”

“I need you to kill someone. Someone extremely close to the emperor.” He glanced over his shoulder, seeing an unsure look on her face; he chuckled. “You needn’t worry; I’m not having you kill any of his children. No.”

Turning, he once more caught her chin in his hand. He gently forced her to turn her head to the left and to the right, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her features. She had changed a great deal since she had first come into his care. It was to be expected; she was only half Hun, after all. Her Chinese mother ensured that her face would soften with age and her skin would lighten somewhat. But she still had the long face and cold eyes of her Hunnic father.

Zhu swallowed hard, doing her best to not show any fear despite her stomach churning with it. “Then who’s my target?” she asked, voice somewhat muffled.

“The Emperor’s advisor,” he told her, finally releasing her face. “Once the Emperor hears of our invasion, he will send out a summons for new soldiers to be trained while his army goes to the front lines. It is the job of his advisor to oversee the training of new recruits and to let the Emperor know when they are ready to fight.”

She nodded in understanding, lightly rubbing her chin as Shan Yu went to warm his hands by the fire. “But, if we’re heading straight to the Imperial City, why would we need to worry about them?” She stepped forward as he beckoned her towards the beacon. “They’re fresh. Unhardened. They’ve never faced an army, let alone _killed_ people. Won’t they be too terrified of us to put up a fight?”

Shan Yu shot her a cold look and smacked her, hard, upside the head. “Use your brain, _girl,_ ” he hissed as the blow sent her stumbling. He watched as she caught herself against the wall before she could fall. “Those men have families they will want to protect. They have _homes_ they will want to protect. Even the most docile of animals will put up a fight if their homes are threatened; why would humans be any different?”

“S-sorry for questioning your plans, Shan Yu,” Zhu mumbled, rubbing the side of her head. “I should have known better.” Her brain throbbed inside her skull.

“Yes, you should have.” His voice was emotionless.

“When—” She paused, unsure if she should speak again. When Shan Yu didn’t make any effort to hit her again, though, she risked it. “When am I to leave?” She clenched her eyes shut for a moment; the throbbing in her skull was beginning to fade, leaving lightheadedness in its place.

“Not for a few days,” he answered. “I need to gather more information before I send you anywhere. I won’t have you returning nearly dead again.”

Despite knowing he wouldn’t see it, she slowly nodded. “Is—is there anything else you need me for?”

“Bring me that which I sent you out for.”

“Yes, Shan Yu,” she murmured. Crawling over the side of the wall, she let herself drop down onto the closest merlon. From there, she hopped down onto the parapet.

Still feeling a bit lightheaded, she made her way through the flood of Hun soldiers. None of them noticed her occasional stumble -or, if they did, they didn’t much care. Eventually, she made it back to her horse.

“I’m back, little sister, but not for long,” she murmured, stroking the mare’s nose. Closing her eyes, she let out a heavy sigh and rested her head against her neck for a few minutes. “Shan Yu needs me to bring him the med—the _tea_ to him.” She glanced around, hoping no one else was around to hear her slipup.

The mare snorted and pawed at the ground, earning a small laugh from Zhu.

“Alright, alright -I’ll feed you first,” she said. As she reached into her saddlebag, though, she frowned. “Maybe not…” Looking up at the wall, she saw the figure of Shan Yu walking along the parapet, giving orders to the men. She cursed under her breath and pulled out the bag of medicine instead of a bag of feed. “I’m sorry, Umut, but I’ve already upset him once. I promise I’ll feed you when I come back, though.”

Umut snorted in displeasure, as if she could understand Zhu’s words.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve already been hit twice for my insolence tonight -I don’t want it to happen a third time.” Before Umut could protest further, she sprinted off.

A few minutes later, she was doubled over and breathing heavily while holding the bag out to Shan Yu. Snatching it from her, he untied the string closure and opened the bag. He reached in, feeling the amount of tea rather than seeing it. Pulling out a handful, he smelled it.

“Most of this is still rather fresh,” he commented, letting the bits of dried roots and herbs slide back into the bag.

“I—I watched the old shopkeeper make up a batch three days ago,” panted Zhu. She stood upright, pressing a hand into her side; she had a painful stitch, but tried her best to ignore it. “I chose—chose his store over a larger one be—because of that.” She swallowed hard and clenched her eyes shut.

Drawing the bag shut once more, he tucked it inside his coat. “You did well, Zhu,” he told her, taking her by surprise. “That’s all for now. I suggest you go get some rest.” As Zhu bowed and took her leave, he smirked, quietly telling himself, “These next few days will be… _exciting_ to say the least.”


	2. Chapter Two

A storm was coming.

As the army rode east, the sky continued to grow darker and darker though it was still early morning. Despite her layers of warm clothing, Zhu shivered. She had never liked storms -they left the earth covered in thick mud and the floodwaters left in their wake hid dangers that could prove fatal to the horses. This storm, though, was still quite some ways off.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one concerned about the weather; riding beside her, Roua kept squinting up at the sky and sniffing the air.

“Why are you sniffing so hard?” she asked, humor in her voice. “The only things I smell are Ruga and horse shit.”

On her other side, Ruga grunted. He reached over to lightly smack her, but she ducked.

“You can only smell Ruga and horse shit because you’re shorter than us,” Roua told her, his eyes shut. “If you were taller, you’d be able to smell the change in the air.” Opening his eyes, he looked down at her. “We are surrounded by trees, yet the air smells of dirt and dust. Soon, our path will turn rocky.” He smiled, watching as she tried to sit up taller.

Sniffing the air, Zhu couldn’t pick up the scents Roua described. “I don’t smell either of those.”

“Like I said, you’re _short_.” Reaching over, he lightly patted the top of her head. “You’re only getting the bad smells down there.”

She grinned. “Or maybe you’re just the bastard of a giant and a bear and _that’s_ why you can smell those things.” Out of all the elite, Roua and Ruga were the nicest ones to her; out of the two, though, Roua was her favorite. Though he could be just as harsh as Mundzuc at times, he was almost _fun_ to be around the rest of the time. He had also been the one to teach her many of the everyday-skills she needed in life: How to cook, how to repair her clothes, and how to care for horses.

Roua’s brow rose and he smirked. “How do you know I’m _not_?”

“Because we don’t have nearly enough hair to be the bastard of a bear,” Ruga interrupted.

Both Roua and Zhu started laughing, earning a frown from him. Roua would have continued on with the joke, but a shrill cry from the sky silenced him. The members of the elite, rather than looking up, looked to Shan Yu. His eyes were closed, but those riding closest to him could see his eyes moving beneath his lids.

Opening his eyes, he turned his horse, halting the army behind him. “There is a village, not five miles ahead of us in those hills,” he told them. “Take everything of value. Burn everything. Spare no one. But pace yourselves. We still have a long ride ahead of us.”

An excited murmur passed through the army. Zhu glanced up at Roua, seeing a sinister smile on his lips; Ruga wore an identical expression. Though she felt a bit of excitement at the thought of looting and burning, she wasn’t too thrilled about Shan Yu’s orders to spare no one.

She didn’t like killing people who couldn’t fight back. Soldiers with armor, swords, and bows? No hesitation. But women, elderly people, _children_? She would leave them for the others to deal with.

As Shan Yu once more turned his horse, spurring them onwards, the army followed suit. Instead of a trot, though, they now rode at a gallop. The sound of the hundreds of hooves was thunderous in its volume.

Less than half an hour had passed when they reached the village. Zhu reined in Umut as, around them, frenzied Huns dismounted and ran towards the buildings. Her eyes narrowed somewhat; there were no screams of horror and there were no people running, scared.

“They must have heard of our coming,” Shan Yu said, stopping his horse beside her. “Disappointing, but to be expected.”

“Burning the village will still send a message to the Emperor,” she replied.

He nodded. “Though I would have liked it to have more weight to it than the smoldering ashes of lost homes, it will have to do.”

Pulling her cap back slightly, Zhu looked up at him. “When will you tell me when I leave for my mission?” she dared to ask.

“As soon as we come across some Imperial soldiers, you’ll know,” he told her, brow rising. An amused smirk came to his lips. “Feeling anxious, are you?”

She said nothing, her gaze fixed on the empty village.

The grin remained on his lips as he scratched the side of his neck. “Do you know why I’m having _you_ kill the Emperor’s advisor, Zhu?” he asked, watching as Ruga and Roua carried armfuls of cloth and food from one of the houses.

“No,” she admitted.  “Bleda and Mundzuc are your usual choices for stealth kills.”

“That they are,” he agreed. “But you, Shan Zhu, are _observant_. They are not. Bleda knows how to hide himself well enough to not be seen when he kills. Mundzuc has speed and stealth on his side. But neither take the time to observe the area where their target is. More than once, Edeco or Ruga has had to create some sort of diversion in order to let them escape.

“But you? You have proven time and time again that you pay attention to the smallest of details. You get in quietly and you leave just as quietly. Your last mission excepting, of course.”

Her cheeks burned somewhat at the memory of having to fight her way out of the rival camp. Even after disguising herself and watching the sons’ movements to learn their schedules, she hadn’t been aware that the elder son had a personal concubine who never left his tent.

The concubine put up a better fight than he had, however. She had almost been sad to kill her.

“Have your ribs fully healed from that mission?”

She blinked, being drawn out of her thoughts. “I believe so. They still ache once in a while, but not enough to worry about.”

“Good.” He glanced down at her. “You had better get in there if you want to claim anything. Edeco is starting the fire.”

“They can have it all. I don’t much feel like pillaging right now.”

At that, Shan Yu let out a laugh. “Is that so?”

Zhu looked up at the sky, her brows furrowed as she watched the clouds move. “Something about this weather feels wrong,” she stated, “like it’s not natural.”

He gave a small nod of acquiesce. “I will have to agree with you on that,” he said. “Even Hayabusa feels something is off. Something is stirring; something ancient and powerful.” Looking down at her once more, he grinned. “And with perfect timing. It signals our coming triumph over the Emperor.”

She nodded and forced herself to smirk; for some reason, she found herself unable to believe his words.

‘Let’s hope I’m the one who’s wrong,’ she thought, watching as one house began to burn. Edeco passed burning planks of wood to other Huns who then went off to light the other houses.

It wasn’t long before the village was engulfed in flames. The smoke from the inferno rose into the sky, blending in with the clouds. As they rode away from the scene, Zhu noticed how, the further away they got, the harder it became to see the smoke. Soon, it didn’t seem like there was a fire at all.

 

They hadn’t ridden long before Shan Yu suddenly pulled back on his horse’s reins, bringing the army to an abrupt stop. Save for the occasional snort from a horse, all was silent. But Shan Yu heard and saw something the rest didn’t.

Pointing at Mundzuc, Bleda, and Edeco, he waited for them to dismount before motioning to the north.

‘Hayabusa must have seen something important,’ Zhu thought, brows furrowed. She glanced up at the falcon circling above them. ‘Whether it’s the missing villagers or Imperial soldiers, though, we’ll have to wait to find out…’

The three hunters took nearly fifteen minutes to come back, but when they did, they brought men clad in armor. Zhu cocked her brow; one of them had scarcely seen sixteen summers while the other had seen nearly forty.

“Imperial scouts,” Mundzuc said as he and Edeco shoved the two men to the ground.

Dismounting his horse, Shan Yu walked towards the two men. Zhu quietly snorted as they scooted away in fear only to be blocked by the legs of the Huns behind them.

“Nice work, gentlemen,” he told them, smirking as he crouched before them. Grabbing the scarf around the elder scout’s neck, he mockingly adjusted it so it sat straighter. “You’ve found the Hun army.” There was cold humor in his voice.

The younger of the scouts managed to swallow his fear. “The Emperor _will_ stop you!” he threatened. A choked yelp left his mouth as Shan Yu grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air.

“Stop me?” he sneered. “He _invited_ me. By building his wall, he challenged my strength.” Though Zhu couldn’t see his face, she knew he was wearing a wicked smile. “Well, I’m here to play his _game_.”

As he was thrown to the ground a second time, his companion scrambled to his feet and started to run away. He would have followed suit, but Edeco pushed him back down and rested his foot in the middle of his chest.

“Go!” Shan Yu shouted after the elder scout. “Tell your Emperor to send his strongest armies!” Turning, he looked at Edeco and nodded.

Zhu frowned as Edeco picked up the scout, carrying him some yards away; Shan Yu went with him. Then, realization dawned on her.

“What are they doing?” she heard Roua murmur to Ruga.

“He’s getting the information I need for my next mission,” she answered.

The two looked at her, frowning. “You already have a new mission?” Roua asked.

She nodded, looking up at him. “Yes. I was given it the night we invaded, but Shan Yu didn’t have all the information he needed to send me out just yet. He’s been waiting to come across some Imperial soldiers.”

“Well?” said Roua. “Don’t keep us waiting, girl. Tell us what your mission is.”

“I’m to kill the Emperor’s advisor.”

The brothers exchanged surprised looks with one another.

“Another kill mission?” Roua said. “Why doesn’t he send Mundzuc or Bleda for this one?”

“Apparently, it’s because I’m more observant and patient than either of them.” She lightly shrugged, keeping her gaze fixed on Shan Yu, Edeco, and the scout.

“Hm. How long will you be gone?” Ruga asked.

Again, she shrugged. Her brows then furrowed as she watched Edeco set the scout down. Shan Yu pointed his sword at the young man and gave him some sort of order.

‘Why is he having him get naked?’ she thought, ignoring Roua and Ruga as they discussed her mission. ‘He’s wearing nothing of value -unless he has a silk shirt hiding under that breastplate.’ Her head tilted ever so slightly as she squinted at the scene. ‘No, no silk shirt. Just normal clothing. Maybe his armor has some sort of metal Shan Yu wants?’

Once the scout was nude, Shan Yu seemingly let him go and he and Edeco gathered up the pile of armor and clothing, sorting through it. When they started to walk away, the young man took off at a run. Around Zhu, the army was snickering at the man’s plight.

There was a twang of a bowstring and raucous laughter filled the air as the scout fell to the ground, an arrow stuck through his back. But he hadn’t died -not yet, at least. He managed to push himself to his knees and start crawling away. Mocking shouts of encouragement filled the air as the Huns urged him forward.

“You can do it! Keep crawling!”

“Careful! Those rocks look sharp!”

“The pain only lasts for a little while! You’ll grow used to it!”

Rolling her eyes, Zhu unslung her bow and notched the string. “Idiots,” she muttered under her breath as she drew an arrow. Taking aim, she fired the arrow.

This time, the scout did not get back up.

Angered grumbles ran through the army. Some shouted at her for ruining their fun, but she paid them no heed. Letting the scout live posed a risk to their conquest.

One of the Huns closest to her, one of a handful of women among the ranks, smacked her hard on the shoulder. “It was harmless fun. Why did you go and spoil it, _girl_?” she growled. “Do you know how long it’ll be before we get another chance to laugh?”

Lifting her brow, Zhu turned Umut around so that she faced the woman. “I did it because you are all _idiots_ ,” she replied.

The woman snatched her by the collar, somewhat lifting her off the saddle. “You think you can get away with calling us names, _little girl_?” she sneered. “Just because Shan Yu lets you pretend to be one of his elite warriors—" Her words fell short as Zhu suddenly slammed her forehead against her face. A cry of pain left the woman’s mouth and she let go of her in favor of holding her face.

The army went silent. Ruga and Roua grinned.

“Be glad I didn’t have my knife drawn,” Zhu told the woman, “otherwise, your tongue would be on the ground.” She then looked up, glaring at the army. “If that man had survived long enough to find help, then our journey could have been jeopardized. Then it would be the Emperor laughing, _not_ you.”

She glanced over at the woman; her nose and mouth were bleeding. But it wasn’t quite enough. To make sure her point had been driven home, Zhu slammed her fist into the woman’s gut. “ _That_ was for calling me a little girl,” she sneered. Turning Umut once more, she let Ruga place himself between the two of them.

Roua leaned over, wearing a somewhat proud grin. “Good job,” he told her. “Now she _knows_ to not disrespect you.”

“I lied about the tongue. Next time, it’ll be her _life_ ,” Zhu quietly admitted.

He said nothing, but let out a small laugh.

Shan Yu and Edeco returned to the group. With the bundle of clothing in hand, Shan Yu mounted his horse. Beside him, Edeco mounted his; he carried the scout’s armor. Neither seemed to have noticed what just happened -for that, Zhu was thankful. She was almost certain it would have meant a harsh scolding from Shan Yu.

“We ride until we reach the river,” Shan Yu suddenly called out. “We will rest there until night.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearing nightfall and the storm had yet to arrive.

Zhu sat near the riverbank, eating a small meal of hardened bread and dried meat. A few yards behind her, around a small campfire, sat the rest of the elite. If she hadn’t still felt embarrassed about Roua settling _her_ quarrel, she would be sitting with them. As it was, however, she sat by herself, doing her best to ignore the chilled night air.

When she heard heavy footsteps approaching her, she barely looked up.

“Nearly got yourself in a spot of trouble earlier, did you?” Shan Yu sat down beside her.

“Almost,” she replied, pouring a bit of water over her bread to soften it. “A headbutt and a punch to the gut stopped it in its tracks.”

She glanced over as she heard the shifting of feathers. Hayabusa was perched on Shan Yu’s shoulder, greedily taking pieces of meat as they were offered to him. She frowned slightly; she had never been fond of the falcon.

With good reason: Hayabusa _despised_ her.

“I have the information needed for your mission.”

Zhu said nothing, but turned her head to signal that she was listening.

“The advisor is being stationed at a camp about fifty miles from here,” he continued. “It’s the Moo-Shung camp. You will have to disguise yourself as a Chinese soldier.”

“So _that’s_ why you took the scout’s clothing and armor.”

He chuckled. “I would have preferred to let _him_ live, being that he was younger and could reach the Emperor sooner. But, as fate turns out, he was the one closer to you in size.” Feeding Hayabusa the last piece of meat, he made a soft clicking sound with his tongue and stroked the bird’s chest feathers. Shortly after, Hayabusa took off to go patrol the skies once more.

Zhu watched as the falcon climbed higher and higher in the sky until he became no more than a shifting dot. “I suppose you’ll want me to leave tonight?”

“Yes.” Picking up a rock, he turned it over in his hands, looking it over. It was smooth and round, but flat. “In case someone were to recognize the outfit, I’ve had the red fabric dyed black. The last of it should be dry by now.” With a flick of his wrist, he sent the rock skipping across the river’s surface.

“How did you do that?” she asked, brows furrowed.

He picked up a second stone. “You find the flat ones. Then you use your wrist.” Again, he sent the stone skipping across the river’s surface.

Leaning back, Shan Yu closed his eyes. For many minutes, he was quiet. A small grin came to his face when he heard Zhu try to skip a couple of rocks. None of her attempts sounded like they had succeeded, though.

“Half a mile south of here, you’ll find a road,” he said, breaking the silence after a long while. “Follow it southeast and it will bring you to the camp.”

She frowned, but nodded. “Understood,” she replied, “but how long will be _too_ long?”

He scratched the side of his neck. “I’ll give you three months. Take your time with this mission. I don’t want anything happening to you this time, do you understand?”

Her eyes widened. “Three months?” she repeated. “That—That seems almost like _too_ much time.” She was used to being given a week or two at _maximum_ to get a mission done. Three months, though…?

“Would you rather I make it three _days_?” he snapped, brow raised.

“N-No.” She looked away, cheeks burning. “Three months will suffice.”

“Good.” He stood, stretching. “Any more questions?”

She swallowed hard; part of her wanted to remain silent out of fear of being reprimanded. But there was one thing she _had_ to know. “…How will I find you once the job is done?”

Tilting his head back, Shan Yu looked up at Hayabusa. Once more, he fell silent for many minutes. Just when Zhu was positive he had no answer for her, he spoke. “Go to the Imperial City and wait for us there.”

“Understood.”

“Cut your hair and change before you set out,” he ordered. “You will go by the name Zheng Zhu. I’ve set aside enough provisions to last you three days. It should only take you two to reach the camp, but you may be waylaid temporarily by the weather. You’ll find the provisions and your new clothes with Umut.”

Again, Zhu nodded. She almost flinched when Shan Yu set his hand atop her head, but she was able to stop herself.

“Good luck, Zhu,” he said, his voice eerily gentle, before walking off.

A shiver ran down her spine; he hadn’t spoken to her in such a tone since she was a child. As Shan Yu let out a shrill whistle, she stood up. The encampment burst into life with Huns extinguishing their fires and saddling their horses. She remained where she was, however.

Roua and Ruga rode by, each of them giving her a small nod. As Edeco and Bleda rode by, they wished her luck. Mundzuc said nothing; instead, he offered her a cold look and nothing more.

When the last of the Huns had left her sights, she moved. She went to Umut, who was tied to a tree. The mare was restless; she wanted to catch up to the rest of the army.

“Shh, shh,” Zhu murmured, gently running her fingers down her muzzle. “We’re not going with them, little sister. We’ve been given a different task. Shh.”

Umut snorted before shaking herself. She pawed at the ground, her tail flicking irritably.

Sighing, Zhu pressed her forehead against Umut’s muzzle, a hand on each of her cheeks. She quietly started to hum as she held the mare’s head. When she finally quieted down a bit, Zhu began to softly sing.

_“When the moon rises_

_And stars fill the sky_

_The wolves will hunt_

_And the bats will fly_

_Bears hide away_

_And the waiting tiger lies_

_While you, my child, are safe inside.”_

She stopped there, a triumphant smile on her lips. Umut had calmed down entirely. “You just needed to hear our lullaby, didn’t you, little sister?” she cooed. “I know you’re anxious, but I promise: We will ride soon.”

Umut gently nuzzled her cheek before lowering her head to eat more grass. She didn’t even care when Zhu reached into her saddlebag and drew out a knife.

“How short should I make it?” Zhu mumbled, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “I know it needs to be long enough to still tie up…Hm.” Bringing her knife through the braid, she purposefully made it too long at first. She gradually shortened it, checking to see when it was short enough to be masculine, but still long enough to tie up.

It was, by far, the hardest part of her disguise to accomplish -she had to make sure she cut everything evenly, otherwise she would just look ridiculous. After nearly half an hour of careful work, she finally got it to be a decent-enough length. Once she had it tied up, she shed her clothes in favor of the Chinese garb.

She had to admit, it felt strange to put on a dead man’s clothes. As she tied a black sash around her waist, she uttered a silent prayer to whoever -and _what_ ever- was listening in hopes that the Imperial scout’s spirit wouldn’t haunt her for this.

‘The last thing I need is for a dead man to haunt the clothes _someone else_ stole from him,’ she thought, pulling the breastplate on over her head. ‘This armor is heavier than I expected…’

Sighing, she finished getting dressed. Her old clothes she left in a heap on the ground; she wouldn’t miss them. They were old and threadbare in places. When her mission was over and Shan Yu sat on the Emperor’s throne, she would get herself new clothes.

Maybe she’d even get herself one of those shiny, silk shirts…

‘Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,’ she told herself, mounting Umut. ‘A lot can happen between now and then. Don’t let greed cloud your judgement.’

Faint traces of the sunset still lingered on the western horizon. Using that as a guide, she turned Umut to the south. With a click of her tongue and a gentle kick of her heels, Zhu urged Umut forward at a trot.

There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach; whether it was fear or excitement was impossible for her to tell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a little thanks to those of you who have been reading and leaving comments and/or kudos! I'm glad you're enjoying the story~!

The storm finally came after two days of uneventful riding. With their only shelter being a giant bamboo forest, Zhu and Umut had done their best to stay dry and get some rest. Zhu had managed to improvise a bit of a roof by bending and tying some of the bamboo together, but it was of little use. She and Umut were thoroughly soaked.

To their relief, morning brought clear skies and warm sun. After wringing out her clothes as best she could, the two of them continued on. Thanks to the muddy road, though, Zhu chose to walk alongside Umut to lessen her chance of slipping.

By midmorning, they had reached the edge of the forest. They found themselves looking down at a large encampment surrounded by walls painted red and white. Many tents had been set up inside these walls and she could see men milling about. She could also see a small herd of all-white horses lingering near the entrance; Imperial stallions, she knew, from the Emperor’s main army.

‘Looks like training hasn’t started yet,’ she thought. ‘At least I’m not late.’ Turning her attention away, she started to survey the camp’s surroundings. 

Curving around the western and southern borders of the camp was an enormous lake fed by the river that made up the northern border. The shore closest to the camp was lush and green thanks to the bamboo forest growing right up to its edge. But as the shoreline turned south, the greenery faded away into steep, sharp-looking hills.

‘Those look dangerous,’ she told herself, brow rising. ‘I’ll probably take that road after I kill the advisor. Hm. No. They’ll expect that if they come looking.’

Umut snorted and impatiently tossed her head. Zhu chuckled, patting the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry, little sister. I just want to make sure I know what I’m going to be working with.” As the mare nudged her, she laughed again. “Alright, _alright_. Let’s get going then. The road here looks better than the one in the forest…”

Once Zhu was mounted, Umut headed down the hill at a gentle trot. The road _was_ better here, but only just. There was more gravel to be found here, but the ground beneath was still soft and squelchy. When the mare tried to quicken her pace, Zhu restrained her.

“Whoa, girl,” she soothed. “ _Steady_. We have no reason to hurry.”

Begrudgingly continuing her trot, Umut snorted.

The closer they got to the camp, the more Zhu was able to take in. There was a small bridge over the river, wide enough for two horses at a time. The walls, which she had thought were made entirely of wood, were actually made of cloth panels held between large, wooden posts.

‘What an odd way to make a wall…Not very good in terms of defense, but I guess it works for privacy?’ She lightly shrugged.

As they neared the bridge, she felt her stomach begin to fill with a familiar feeling: Nervous excitement. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and held it for half a moment. Then, she slowly exhaled through her nose. Continuing to breathe like this, she thought about the fake background she had come up with for herself in case anyone tried to make small talk. It was simple enough: She’d pose as the only son of a sickly, widowed father who did anything he could to take care of his father.

It really wasn’t _too_ far from the truth.

Crossing the bridge, Zhu saw leaning against the gate to the camp a single man in armor. He had a quiver strapped to his side, but his bow was resting against the wall. She noticed he looked tired; how long had he been standing watch?

“Morning,” the man said, giving her a friendly nod. “Looks like you got caught in the storm last night.”

“It certainly made for a poor night’s sleep,” she replied with a nod. She only needed to deepen her voice slightly. Thanks to her Hunnic heritage, it was already low for a woman. She looked past him, at the rows of tents and the men attending to daily life between them. “Am I late? The place looks fairly full.”

“You’re just in time, actually,” he chuckled. “Everything starts tomorrow. Oh, and before I forget: Do you have your conscription notice?”

‘Conscription notice?’ she thought, doing her best to keep any emotion from her face. ‘Shan Yu didn’t leave me one of _those_!’

“Ah…it got...ruined in the storm last night,” she told him, feigning a look of apologetic guilt. “I tried to keep it dry, but well…” She shrugged.

The man didn’t seem too upset by this; in fact, he merely shrugged as well. “Ah, it happens. Just give me your name so I can let the commander know.”

“Zheng Zhu,” she replied. She found herself feeling relieved that, so far, her disguise was believable.

“Easy enough to remember,” he chuckled. “Anyway. If you head down this path here-” he pointed to the western part of the camp, “-there should be a couple of open tents left, so you’ll probably want to claim one if you don’t have your own. There are makeshift stables along the western wall, as well as the latrines. Food is served in the center of the camp -I recommend trying to get in line early so you don’t end up with the burnt bits.”

She nodded in understanding. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

The guard nodded as well. As Zhu rode past, he returned to his spot against the gate. Following his directions, she went to stable Umut.

“Well, this should be interesting,” she quietly said, dismounting. “Food is provided for us? And there are latrines here? Better than having to dig the hole first…”

Umut snorted and leaned her head down. As Zhu removed her saddle and bags, she sniffed the grass before taking a bite. A snort to her left drew her attention; there was a tall, white stallion stabled beside her, his mane and tail tied up and out of the way.

Zhu seemed to notice the stallion as well.

“Oh no,” she murmured, her brow rising. “Come on, Umut. You’re going to the _other_ end of the stables.” She started leading the mare away, saddle and bags slung over one shoulder. “I won’t have you _dying_ because you got pregnant with too-big of a foal and couldn’t birth it.”

Once Umut was far enough away from the stallion, she closed the gate to the stall. “Now behave yourself. We’re going to be here awhile, so it’s best to not make any enemies _just_ yet.” She rested her forehead against Umut’s for a few seconds before walking back towards the tents.

‘The Chinese are so different from what I’m used to,’ she thought, looking around. ‘Everything’s organized differently. They set up their tents in rows, not in circles and have them in all sizes. Our yurts are all the same size unless you’ve got a family…And everything looks _cleaner_ somehow? Probably thanks to all this white fabric.’

She let out a small sigh, realizing something: The tents all looked identical.

“Alright…which tents are the unclaimed ones?” she asked herself.

“Oh, there’s only one unclaimed tent left,” a voice beside -and somewhat _above-_ her answered. “It’s the last one on this row.”

Looking up, Zhu found herself staring at an _enormous_ man. Her eyes widened in surprise; he had not a bit of hair on his head, but he wore a kind smile. She was glad not all Chinese men were his size, or else they’d _actually_ pose a threat to Shan Yu’s army…

“Thank you,” she said, trying to not let her voice betray her amazement.

He merely smiled and nodded, his attention quickly being drawn elsewhere.

Going to the last tent, she poked her head inside to make absolutely sure no one else was using it. Finding it clear of everything except a bedroll and blanket, she stepped in. It was a decent size for one person; she could stretch out her arms with ample space to the sides and above her. The lack of carpets and rugs, though, was odd to her.

‘It’s to be expected,’ she though, setting her things down. ‘It’s not like they have to pack up and bring their entire _home_ with them everywhere.’

Once she had her things in order and had removed her armor, she stepped back outside to look around. Her row of tents faced the southern half of camp, which was nothing more than an open field. The only interesting thing about it was the tall, smooth pole some yards away.

‘Wonder what that’s for?’ she thought, brow rising. ‘I’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure…’

Making her way around camp, she took in the sights: Places where the wall looked weakest; the commanding officer’s tent; the smithing area; and the long line for lunch. As she walked around, she noticed how unfit for war the recruits were. Many of them _looked_ soft with their scar-less faces and expensive attire.  Others were absolutely scrawny and looked like they were unable to even lift a bucket of water.

‘All the better for Shan Yu,’ she thought, biting back a smirk.

Despite taking her time to look around, there was one thing she had yet to find: The advisor’s tent.

She was starting to grow frustrated with her search when she was suddenly stopped by an odd sight. Walking past was a young man -freshly arrived, judging by the fact he still wore his armor. That would have been fine, but he walked with his head held too far back and his legs bent inwards, like he had an extremely full bladder.

“What in the…?” she mumbled, brows furrowing. Shaking her head, she made her way towards the line for lunch. She hadn’t eaten since early that morning and she was looking forward to eating something that _wasn’t_ dried meat and hard bread.

‘This is definitely going to take some getting used to,’ she thought as she was handed an empty bowl. She nodded her thanks before moving to get in line.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she glanced around as two more men joined the line. There were a few open-air tents set up to provide cover from the sun. It was under those tents where most of the men chose to eat.

She then spotted a middle-aged twig of a man dressed in black and blue; he was standing in front of the commanding officer’s tent. He had a haughty look as he observed the goings-on of the camp. Most importantly, though, was that he carried a writing board with the Imperial crest on it.

‘The advisor,’ she thought, her eyes narrowing somewhat. ‘He doesn’t have much muscle to him; that’s good. And he _definitely_ doesn’t have the body of a warrior. If I need to make a clean kill, it’ll be more than easy to snap his-’

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a commotion behind her. Frowning, she turned in time to see three men -one of them being the giant from earlier- running towards the line. The first two -an extremely short man and a tall, lanky man- looked like they had just gotten in a fist fight.

The shorter man was able to stop himself before running into the last person in line. The lanky one, too, was just able to stop himself. But as the giant came near to them, Zhu jumped out of line and just in time. The giant ran into the lanky man, causing him to fall forward which, in turn, made the short man fall into the man in front of _him_.

Within seconds, there was a line of men sprawled on the grass and a knocked-over cauldron of congee. The rice was oozing its way across the ground, but the men didn’t seem to care. As the line of men started to stand up and look around, they saw the reason for their fall: The young, awkward man from earlier.

“Hey, guys…” he said, voice filled with fear.

Glancing between the angry mob of men and the pile of congee, Zhu cocked her brow. Shrugging, she headed over to the congee, intent on still getting _something_ to eat. What did it matter if it had a bit of grass in it?

Before she could take more than three steps, however, someone grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her around to face them. She found herself looking at the man who had, just a few minutes ago, been standing in front of her.

“You saw this coming!” he snapped. “You could have warned us!”

Shoving his arm away from her, she glared at him. “Or, _maybe_ , you could have used your brain and turned around yourself when the yelling started.”

The man swung at her. As it came at her, she grabbed his arm. Using his forward momentum against him, she spun around and, with a grunt, flipped him over her shoulder. He landed on the ground with a loud, dull thud and a curse.

Zhu supposed her action must have been some sort of signal, because all hell broke loose.

An enormous brawl broke out and it was every man for himself. Most were using only their hands and feet to fight. Others had grabbed cooking pots. In one case, someone had grabbed an extremely large watermelon and was using it as both a shield and a weapon.

It was a chaotic affair; rice, grass, and insults were flying through the air. Patches of blood soon joined the rice and bits of torn clothing that littered the ground.

Zhu was in the thick of it. She wasn’t quite sure how, but she found herself standing back-to-back with the giant man…who seemed more interested in the bowl of congee he had snagged than actually fighting. She didn’t blame him; her own stomach was demanding food.

She ducked as someone swung at her. Her elbow met their gut. As they doubled over, her knee met their face.

Something moved in the corner of her vision. Zhu turned only to be sent flying backwards as, not a human, but a _fish_ slammed into her face. Holding her face as she stumbled back, she ended up tripping over someone. As she hit the ground, she cursed.

“Who the hell fights with a _fish_?!” she grumbled, pulling her hands back. Her palms were smeared with blood. Her only consolation was that _some_ of it wasn’t hers.

“Soldiers!”

The chaos ended as abruptly as it had started. Sitting up, she watched as everyone pointed at her and the person she had tripped over: The awkward, young man.

“They started it!” the group cried out in unison.

Frowning, Zhu untangled herself from the young man and stood up, brushing herself off. She stood up straight, not moving as their commanding officer came over. She wondered if her punishment would be a beating? Or would it be something _worse_?

The young man jumped to his feet as well, starting to brush himself off.

“I don’t need anyone causing trouble in my camp,” the officer -Captain Li Shang- scolded, glaring at them.

Zhu said nothing, but she did nod in acknowledgement. She could feel the blood still running down her face.

“S-sorry,” the man said. “I mean, uh, _sorry_ you had to see that!” He let out a nervous laugh; Zhu cocked her brow. “You know what it’s like when you get those—those _manly_ urges!”

‘Something is off about that boy,’ she thought as he continued.

“What’re your names?” demanded Shang, not at all impressed.

“Zheng Zhu, sir.”

Shang looked at the other, his brow rising. “And _you_?”

“Uh…” His cheeks started to turn a little red. Zhu narrowed her eyes slightly; he looked incredibly nervous.

The Emperor’s advisor came over, joining them. “Your commanding officer just asked _you_ a question,” he said, voice cold.

It took all of Zhu’s willpower to not stick her tongue out in disgust. The advisor’s voice was a perfect mixture of nasally and narcissistic. She wondered if she’d be doing the Emperor a favor by killing him…

After some minutes of fumbling, the young man finally gave his name -or, at least, what was _supposed_ to be his name. “Ping,” he told Shang. Zhu noticed that he grabbed the back of his neck rather than rubbed it. “My name is Ping.”

Understandably, Shang didn’t seem convinced -nor did anyone else. “Let me see your conscription notice,” he ordered. When Ping handed it over, he unfurled it so he and the advisor could read it over. Their eyes widened in shock. “Fa Zhou? _The_ Fa Zhou?” he gaped.

Ping slightly cringed as his father’s name was called out and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know Fa Zhou had a son!” murmured the advisor.

“He, uh…doesn’t talk about me much,” Ping replied. He tried to spit on the ground, but failed miserably. His cheeks turned even redder as he hurriedly wiped away the spit.

“I can see why,” Zhu mumbled, a concerned look on her face. She quickly fell silent once more as Shang threw her a glare; she was surprised he didn’t hit her for speaking out of turn.

Shang began to pace in a circle around the two recruits. “Okay, gentlemen, thanks to your new _friends_ , Ping and Zhu,” he called out, “you’ll be spending tonight picking up _every single_ grain of rice.” A loud groan came from the men as he headed back to his tent. “And tomorrow, the _real_ work begins!”

Zhu closed her eyes for a moment, slowly letting out a sigh. She was relieved that their punishment wasn’t going to be a beating, but as she opened her eyes and looked at the rice-strew ground, her brows furrowed.

“I think I’d rather take a beating,” she mumbled, heading to the edge of the fight area to retrieve her dropped bowl. Getting down on her hands and knees, she started to pluck grains of rice from the grass.

After nearly half an hour, Zhu’s bowl was almost full of rice. More importantly, her nose had finally stopped bleeding. Leaning back on her haunches, she let out a sigh and looked around.

Ping was working a few yards away from her, still fully clad in his armor and wearing an extremely guilty expression. His bowl was almost full as well, but as another recruit got up to go dump his bowl into the cooking pot, he ‘accidentally’ kicked over Ping’s bowl, spilling the rice once again.

Ping only let out a defeated sigh and started to pick it all back up.

Zhu bit her tongue, hard, to keep herself from scolding the recruit. She instead focused her energy on scooting over to Ping, helping to fill his bowl back up. Ping stared at her, shocked.

“If they keep kicking your bowl over, then we’ll be here all night,” she told him, her voice emotionless. “And I’m just as at fault for causing this mess as you.”

Ping glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, you’re really not,” he sighed. Zhu noticed that his voice sounded a bit higher than it did earlier. “You may have started the brawl, but that came about because _I_ caused the others to chase after me.”

Her brow rose slightly. “At least you admit your guilt,” she told him. “Most wouldn’t.” She then pointed at his bowl. “That’s full now. When you take it to the cooking pot, walk _around_ everyone. They’ll try to trip you otherwise.”

Nodding, Ping grabbed his bowl and did as he was instructed. Zhu kept an eye on him as she started filling the remains of her own bowl. When he had safely deposited the rice in the cauldron, she finally looked away to observe the other recruits.

Across the way from her were the three who had been chasing Ping. Like the rest of the men, they were focused on their work and were grumbling quietly to themselves. Her eyes then narrowed: The tall, lanky one had a large fish laying on the ground beside him. While that alone wasn’t enough evidence to prove him to be the one who had hit her, the added combination of his height and his closeness to the dwarf and the giant added fuel to the conviction.

‘ _He’s_ the one who was wielding the fish,’ she thought, her eyes narrowing somewhat. She still couldn’t believe she had been hit by a _fish_ of all things -it was insulting! If any of the elite had seen it, she would be hearing about it for _years_. ‘If Shan Yu were to find out, he’d probably make me go through remedial training with Mundzuc again…’

She shuddered at the thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank-you to all of you who have been leaving me such lovely comments! I'm glad you all are enjoying the story and I'll do my best to continue making it enjoyable~

When dawn of the next day came, it brought with it the loud rumbling of a large drum. Startled by the sound, Zhu bolted upright. Her eyes were wide and she had drawn a knife from under her pillow. She calmed down after a few seconds, realizing that what she heard _wasn’t_ the sound of stampeding horses. Lying back down, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

‘So _that’s_ how we’re going to be awakened,’ she thought, sliding the knife back into its sheath. After a few minutes, she sat up once more and grabbed her clothes. From the tent beside hers, she could hear the occupant grumbling irritably.

Shaking her head, she stood up and pulled on her pants, then her socks and shoes. She made quick work of finger-combing her hair and, as she tied it up, she hooked the collar of her shirt with her foot. Kicking it into the air, she caught it and tugged it on. As she left her tent, she tied the shirt closed with her sash.

She was amazed to find herself the first recruit out of their tent; surely _someone_ wanted to be the first in line for food? Why were they dawdling? Her brow rising, she shrugged and headed the stables. A bit of a smile came to her lips when she saw Umut munching away on some grain.

“Good morning, little sister,” she murmured, stroking her mane. “I see you’ve been fed already.”

Umut snorted. Lifting her head, she nuzzled her rider.

“I hope _you_ had a good night. Most of mine was spent picking up grains of rice.” Her brows furrowed at the memory and she mumbled a curse under her breath. “Someone finally got smart and brought the chickens in to finish up.”

Again, Umut snorted. She lowered her head, getting another mouthful of food.

“I have the feeling I won’t get to ride you much over the next few weeks,” she sighed. “After I learn the schedules, I may try to sneak a few nighttime rides in with you. How does that sound?”

A pleased nicker came from the mare and her tail flicked, though she didn’t look up from her eating.

Zhu chuckled, patting her rump. “Alright. I should probably get my own breakfast. After all, I get to learn what sort of training I’ll have to go through today…” Patting Umut once more, she finally left the stables.

Returning to the center of camp, she saw that she was still the only one out of their tent. She cocked her brow, not amused by their slowness. Grabbing a bowl from a stack, she headed for the cook and his steaming pot of congee.

As she neared him, the cook narrowed his eyes warily. “I hope you don’t plan on knocking over _this_ pot of food, too.”

She didn’t much blame him for being upset, but she didn’t like how he blamed her for something she had no part in - _that_ had all been Ping. “No, sir,” she replied. “I only intend to get some breakfast.” As she spoke, her stomach grumbled loudly and painfully; she hadn’t eaten since the morning before.

Seemingly satisfied by both her answer and the painful sounds coming from her stomach, the cook placed a ladleful of rice, two fried eggs, and some shredded pork into her bowl. She was surprised to find that the rice was fresh -he hadn’t used the rice the recruits had salvaged. Then, handing her a pair of chopsticks and a mug of steaming tea, he shooed her off to go eat.

As she walked away, Zhu used her arm to cover her mouth as she yawned only to wince; her face still hurt thanks to the fish.

‘I guess I should consider myself lucky that I didn’t suffer a worse injury,’ she thought, ducking into one of the eating tents. ‘I could have gotten a broken nose and _those_ aren’t fun.’ She sat down in the corner furthest from the entrance and started to eat. It was actually a somewhat difficult task for her -she wasn’t used to using chopsticks.

Recruits soon started to make their way into the tent with their own breakfasts. Most of them made sure to sit far away from her. But the seats were filling up fast and soon, there were only three seats left: Two across from her and one beside her.

For a while, it seemed like no one was going to take them.

Then the trio of men from yesterday came in. They seemed to be in good spirits despite spending a good portion of the previous day picking up rice. In fact, they didn’t even seem to notice that the only seats left were next to her.

Until they sat down, that is.

Zhu said nothing as the giant sat down beside her. She didn’t even glance up as the dwarf and the lanky man sat down across from her. But she could tell their mood had soured somewhat, as they had grown quiet upon sitting down.

She was finally forced to look up when she took a drink of her tea. It wasn’t much to her liking. It was strong and bitter; she wished she had some milk or honey to add into it. But its bitterness was to be expected. It was a military ration, after all.

Some of her disgust must have shown on her face, because the dwarf snickered. “Looks like Zhu can’t handle his tea,” he said, grinning slightly. She was surprised by how rough and gravelly his voice sounded -like two boulders grinding against one another.

“Or his chopsticks,” the lanky one added in, watching as she was able to get only a bit of rice from the bowl.

She glanced up at them, her brow rising. “Forgive me for being shaky with them,” she said, voice emotionless. “I’m more used to using them to _gouge_ out people’s eyes.”

All three of the men stared at her for a moment, mild horror on their faces. She attempted to take another bite and failed, making her somewhat pout in frustration.

The lanky one suddenly burst out laughing. “That was a good one!” he laughed, nudging his shorter companion who was also laughing by now. “You _almost_ had us fooled! Your voice and your face were perfect, but that shaky hand and that pout gave it away!”

She was half tempted to throw the remains of her breakfast in his face -it would be perfect payback for the fish- but she resisted. Instead, she somewhat shrugged.

“Not everyone can wield chopsticks as well as you can wield a fish,” she said.

The lanky one paused while his companions snickered. He cracked up again; she didn’t think she had been particular funny. “So _you’re_ the one I hit! I thought I had hit one of the larger guys, what with how solid you felt!”

She took another drink of her tea, forcing herself to not cringe at the flavor. ‘I hope I grow used to this tea…’

“I’m Ling, by the way,” the lanky one continued. “And this is Yao-” he nudged the dwarf who nudged him back, harder, “and Chien-Po!” He nodded at the giant, who gave a small, friendly wave.

She glanced between the three. “You’re willing to tell me your names after what happened yesterday?” she questioned, voice dry. It didn’t make sense to her -they should have been insulting her more or, at the very least, trying to beat her.

Yao shrugged, seemingly more focused on his breakfast than on the conversation. His words proved otherwise, though. “Ah, it wasn’t _you_ who started it all,” he told her. “It was _Ping_ who started it by slappin’ me on the ass.”

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. “ _That’s_ why you were chasing him?”

“He also punched Yao in the back of the head,” Chien-Po added, his soft, calming voice an odd contrast to Yao’s.

“Surprised that kid had that much strength,” Ling chuckled before shoving some food in his mouth. “Sent Yao flying!” As Zhu glanced at him, she thought he looked somewhat familiar. But why?

Yao grumbled, glaring at Ling with his good eye. He then pointed at Zhu. “He caught me unawares,” he told her, tone defensive. “If I had seen it comin’, he wouldn’t of ever touched me.”

Lifting her bowl, she held her chopsticks together and started to use them like a shovel. “I take it you’re a fighter, then?” She shoved one of the fried eggs into her mouth.

He took a long drink of his tea, belching when he finally set the cup down. “I’m a wrestler,” he answered. “An’ a _damned_ good one at that. It’s because of me that the three of us have lasted so long.”

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “Yao would wrestle while Ling placed wagers. Together, they were able to buy us room and food for a few days.”

Zhu feigned a bit of interest -but only because while they talked, she could finish eating and get away from them quicker. “You don’t have a permanent home?”

“Nah. We’re all orphans,” Ling answered. “The three of us and my brother were taken care of by the local Taoist monks. But, ah…we were too much of a handful even for them.” He grinned cheekily. “Soon as we came of age, they booted us all out.”

“You have a brother?” Zhu questioned. “Is he here, too?”

He shook his head, chewing some food. “Qi was smart and joined the military as soon as he could. He’s now one of the Emperor’s best scouts.”

She froze, eyes widening somewhat; she now knew why Ling looked familiar. Qi had to have been the scout she killed. He and Ling shared the same angular face shape, hairline, and they both even had pointed ears, not to mention their lanky bodies. To anyone else, wearing the clothing of someone’s dead brother would have been unnerving. To Zhu, however, it was almost normal -her Hunnic clothing had been taken from dead or dying men.

She started chewing again, hoping that they hadn’t noticed her momentary surprise.

“What about you?”

Zhu looked up, brow rising. “Hm?”

“What’s your story?” Yao questioned. “What kind of life did _you_ have to leave behind?”

Zhu slowly chewed a bite of food. Flashes of her life passed through her memory. Her first time getting wounded in battle, her first kills, the first time Shan Yu praised her work…the time when Shan Yu still showed her love and kindness.

But she knew better.

“I took care of my father,” she told them, instead using the past she had created. “I’m an only child and my mother died birthing me, so it was up to me to care for my father when he started to get sick. I did anything I could to keep him under a roof and fed.”

“You’re kind of like us then,” Chien-Po smiled. “Having to work many odd jobs in order to survive.”

She nodded. “Fought on occasion, too. Mostly worked in the fields or helped haul wares for merchants.” She was more than a little relieved to find her bowl very nearly empty.

Yao snickered. “A twig like _you_ was a competitive fighter?” he teased. “I could lift you with one hand!”

Her brow rose and she looked him in the eye. “And I could lift _you_ with one hand.” She had been hoping it would intimidate him just the slightest bit, but he only let out a hearty laugh.

“Maybe we’ll wrestle it out sometime,” he joked. “See who’s the strongest.”

Shrugging, she stood up. “Perhaps,” she replied. “That’s if the captain doesn’t have us training from dawn ‘til dusk.”

“Then we’ll wrestle at midnight,” he grinned.

She feigned a playful grin and wave as she started to walk away. The second she had her back turned to them, however, the smile was replaced by her usual, stoic expression. ‘Of _course_ I managed to amuse them with threat of bodily harm,’ she thought, ducking out of the tent. ‘It’s going to be hard, avoiding them in the future -especially that Yao. He seems intent on trying to prove his strength…’

Returning her dishes to the cook, she thanked him for the meal before heading for the latrines. When she first visited them previous day, she had found them to be sectioned off into separate, private stalls for which she was extremely grateful. That made _somethings_ a little easier at least.

 

Half an hour later found the recruits standing in the open area by the pole. Zhu had done her best to partially hide herself when the trio left the eating tent, but it had fruitless. Spotting her, they came over and started talking with her once more. Though she wondered why they chose _her_ to talk to, she did find herself somewhat amused when Ling started to pretend to do martial arts.

Something in the corner of her vision drew her attention. Turning, she saw that the advisor was approaching the recruits. He had his writing board and a scowl at the ready.

“Everyone! Order!” he called out, tapping his calligraphy brush on his board. “People! Order!”

“I’d like a pan-fried noodle!” someone called out.

“Oh!” Chien-Po perked. “Sweet and pungent shrimp!”

A third recruit called out, “Moo goo gai pan!”

Zhu snorted as the advisor grumbled; even she admitted the quick wit of the recruits was amusing. After a moment, though, she lightly nudged Chien-Po.

“Who is that guy?” she asked, nodding at the advisor.

Chien-Po looked over. “Oh, that would be Chi-Fu. He’s the Emperor’s advisor,” he answered.

“He’s also a royal pain in the ass,” Yao grumbled.

“He’s the one who’s going to be evaluating our training,” Chien-Po continued, ignoring Yao. “Once he declares us fit enough, we’ll be joining General Li on the front lines.”

“I see,” she murmured, watching as Chi-Fu continued to fail at trying to get the recruits under control. Though she had only wanted to know his name, she found herself glad that Shan Yu had given her the correct information.

‘Not that he would give me the _wrong_ information,’ she thought, finally forcing herself to look elsewhere. ‘He’s never given me wrong information.’

“Looks like our new _friend_ slept in this morning!” Ling grinned, drawing her from her thoughts.

Turning, she saw Ping sprinting towards the group. Zhu noticed he looked a bit panicked, but when he saw that training had yet to begin, he relaxed and slackened his pace.

“Hello, Ping!” Ling continued, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “Are you hungry?”

When he was close enough, Yao grabbed Ping by the collar of his shirt. “Yeah! ‘Cause I owe you a _knuckle-sandwich_!” He pulled back his arm to hit the younger man.

Zhu was about to grab his arm so another brawl wouldn’t break out, but she didn’t need to.

“Soldiers!”

Almost instantly, Yao released Ping. He and the rest of the recruits -Zhu included- quickly formed a line as Shang came towards them.

“You will assemble swiftly and silently every morning,” he called out. Removing his shirt, he draped it on one of many bo staffs held upright by a bucket. In its place, he slung a quiver over his shoulder and grabbed a bow from the bucket. He then walked down the line of recruits, looking each of them over. “Anyone who acts otherwise will answer to _me_.”

“Ooh, _tough guy_ ,” Yao tried to mumble, but thanks to his voice, everyone heard him.

“Yao.”

Zhu found herself impressed by the speed at which Shang drew and nocked an arrow. He pointed it directly at Yao; everyone took a step back, leaving him standing by himself. She was positive Yao was about to die, but, instead, Shang turned, pointing the arrow to the top of the pole. A dull thud echoed down as the arrow stuck fast.

Shang looked back at Yao, a smile on his lips. “Retrieve the arrow.”

Grumbling under his breath, Yao bowed, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll get that arrow, pretty boy,” he muttered, “and I’ll do it with my shirt _on_.” He stalked forward, approaching the base of the pole.

‘That thing’s totally smooth,’ Zhu thought, eyes narrowing. ‘There’s no place to grip. How is he supposed to climb it?’

Yao was about to jump up, but Shang stopped him. “One moment! You seem to be missing something,” he told him, feigning a tone of concern.

Chi-Fu walked up to them, straining under the weight of a long, flat box. Opening it, Shang pulled out a bronze disk. It had a hole through its middle and, through the hole, a length of black cloth was tied in a ring to act as a handle.

“This,” he called out, holding it up for everyone to see, “represents discipline.” Grabbing Yao’s hand, he slipped the cloth handle onto his wrist. As he let go, Yao visibly faltered under the sudden weight. “And this!” He pulled out a second disk and slipped it over his other wrist. “Represents strength.” Letting go of the disk, he kept his eyes on the troops as Yao fell to the ground. “You need _both_ to reach the arrow.”

Zhu glanced over at Chien-Po and Ling; the latter was nearly doubled over with laughter at his friend’s plight. Chien-Po looked a bit worried, but not enough to keep him from giggling. Her brow rose when she saw the look on Ping’s face: He looked extremely concerned.

Whether it was for Yao’s safety or for his own when it came to be his turn, she didn’t know.

Standing up, Yao lifted one of the disks and tested its weight under his own terms. His brow rose and he looked up - _way_ up- at the arrow. Then, with a grunt, he jumped up. He managed to scramble a few feet up the pole before he started to slip. To try and stop himself from falling, he attempted to bite the wood -to no avail. He landed with a ‘thud’ on the ground.

Ling was next. He did better than Yao, but _only_ because he was taller. He had climbed nearly eight feet when he started to slip. To stop himself, he wrapped his legs around the pole, but the weight of the discs pulled him backwards. The rest of the recruits flinched as he fell back, his head slamming against the pole. Groaning, he let go with his legs and half slid, half tumbled the rest of the way down.

Chien-Po didn’t do any better, though the discs did seem like they weighed nothing to him. Six feet up and he fell; the recruits could feel his impact with the ground.

Ping was fourth. Like the three before him, he started to slip before he could get ten feet up. He slid to the ground, wincing as he landed, on his hindquarters.

Zhu glanced over at Shang. He was watching as the fifth recruit attempted the climb. She took half a step back, partially hiding herself behind Chien-Po. Biding her time, she watched as recruit after recruit tried, unsuccessfully, to climb the pole with the discs. Everyone had their own methods: Some took off their shoes to better grip the wood; others tried to get a running start; a few even tried to use their nails to help them climb.

But none of them were able to climb more than fifteen feet up.

When it finally came time for her turn, she stepped forward and picked up the discs. Her brow rose; they _were_ heavy. Tilting her head back, she looked up at the arrow.

‘I have the strength,’ she thought, looking back down at the discs, ‘and I have the discipline. But how do I reach that arrow?’ With a frown, she started to climb. Just as she thought, the wood was smooth, leaving little in the way for gripping.

She tried to use a mixture of Ling and Yao’s climbing. Scrambling upwards, she gripped the pole with her thighs as if she were riding a horse. Though she did her best, her hands slipped on the smooth wood. A curse left her mouth as her legs started to slide and, like the recruits before her, she fell to the ground.

Grumbling, she stood up and returned to the line, glaring at the pole with a mixture of contempt and confusion. ‘How is anyone supposed to climb that?!’ she thought, brows furrowing. ‘It’s too smooth! And the weights make _trying_ to grip the pole even harder…’

Yao cocked a brow when he noticed how intently she was staring. “Whoa, Zhu, don’t go burnin’ a hole through the pole just because ya couldn’t climb it,” he told her.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she replied. “The pole _can’t_ be climbed, whether you’ve got the discs or not. It’s far too smooth. If it had its bark left one, then _maybe_ …”

“It’s probably meant to be a sort of physical metaphor,” Chien-Po said.

Ling blew a raspberry, waving his hand dismissively. “This isn’t one of the set-ups the monks made us do, Chien-Po. This is the army -we’re probably supposed to bludgeon the base with the discs or something, making the pole fall over.”

“Cutting something with a dull object? Ain’t gunna happen, Ling.”

Zhu’s brows remained knitted together. ‘What’s a metaphor…?’ she thought, watching as Shang walked back over to the bucket of bo staffs. Part of her wanted to ask, but another part of her told her to ignore it -that it wasn’t why she was here.

Shang grabbed a handful of staffs, tossing them out to the recruits. As Zhu caught one, she heard a dull thud beside her. Looking down, she saw Ping pushing himself upright and Yao looking away innocently as he dropped a staff on the ground.

‘These guys are worse than Mundzuc and Bleda when it comes to holding grudges,’ she thought, moving a safe distance away from the other recruits. Not wanting to be hit -even on accident- she chose a spot near the edge of the group. ‘Then again, they usually _kill_ the people they’ve grudges against…Or beat each other into unconsciousness…’

Shang started to teach them basic moves with the bo staff. As Zhu followed along, she took note of how different it was from the way the Huns wielded their polearms. The movements were more fluid and precise; because of that, there was more chance of quickly bringing down an opponent. The Huns, on the other hand, focused their strength into simple slashes and stabs that could be easily blocked.

Things were actually going well. For nearly three hours, they were taught the basics with Shang going around, helping them to perfect their stances. But, just when he started to pair them up, something went awry.

Ping started flailing about, hitting others with his staff as he tried reaching for his back. Zhu threw herself to the ground before she could get hit. She peeked up in time to see Shang hurry over, yanking the staff from Ping -but not before he had been hit in the gut.

She also saw something fall out of the back of Ping’s shirt: A large, prickly-looking bug.

Her brows furrowed. ‘I’d be flailing around, too, if something like that was crawling on me,’ she thought with a shudder.

Ping looked understandably guilty as Shang walked away from him. He bit his lower lip, rubbing the back of his neck. As she stood, Zhu could see a couple of bright red welts forming under Ping’s fingers.

‘Hope that bug wasn’t venomous,’ she thought. ‘Though, if it was, that means we won’t have to deal with Ping’s clumsiness for much longer.’

Rather than continue the interrupted lesson, Shang dismissed them for lunch. They had to meet him by the edges of the forest in an hour, however. The recruits hurried off, quickly forming a line for food. When she got her food, Zhu chose to eat _away_ from the tents in hopes of getting some peace.

In a camp full of men, though, that was hard.

She glanced up when she heard someone coming towards her only to watch Ping sit down a few feet away. She wasn’t entirely sure he knew she was there; he looked lost in thought. Shrugging, she went back to eating. She had no reason to talk to him.

“This _isn’t_ how I wanted to start off this whole military thing…” Ping murmured, more to himself than aloud.

Zhu cocked her brow, though she said nothing and with good reason: There was _someone_ whispering near Ping. Who it was, though Zhu had no idea. They were sitting on open ground. Maybe someone had sat down on Ping’s other side that she hadn’t noticed?

“I was doing so good until that bug went down my shirt…then I screwed everything up. _Again_ ,” he continued. Zhu stole a glance over, seeing Ping stirring the contents of his bowl.

There was no one on the other side of him.

But there was more whispering.

At first, she thought it was just the wind. But, as the whispering persisted and even got a bit louder, she realized there was _no_ wind.

Her stomach dropped, replacing hunger with nausea as she stared into her bowl. ‘Either I’m just hearing things,’ she thought, ‘or there’s another reason why Ping is so weird.’

Swallowing hard, she stole another look over at the young man. He still appeared depressed as he ate a bit of his lunch.

‘No. He _can’t_ have one. He’s _far_ too clumsy. I’m probably just hearing things -there _is_ a tent full of men nearby, after all.’ A sense of calm suddenly washed over her. ‘ _That’s_ what I’m hearing! It’s just coincidence that I’m hearing them after Ping talks to himself. It’s probably just Yao trying to boast about his strength…’ She let out a long, slow sigh, her eyes closing.

“Wonder what Shang will have us do next?” Ping sighed, brushing some stray strands of hair from his face.

“If you keep talking to yourself, people will start to believe you really _are_ a lunatic,” Zhu told him. She didn’t have to look to know she had startled him.

“H-How long have you been there?” he stammered. She noticed that, once again, his voice seemed lighter. She also heard the whispering again -to her, it proved that it _was_ the men in the tent.

She cocked a brow. “Since before you sat down.”

Ping rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lower lip. “So you…heard all of that?” His cheeks were dark red with embarrassment

Zhu nodded, stabbing a piece of meat with a chopstick instead of picking it up properly.

A groan came from the other recruit and he buried his face in his palm. “Ancestors help me…”

Snorting, Zhu cocked her brow. “What help are _they_?” she asked. “They’re _dead_.”

He peeked out from between his fingers, a tired laugh leaving his mouth. “My grandmother said the very same thing.”

“Then you should listen to her.” She did her best to gather up a decent-sized bite of rice. “The dead don’t help the living unless it’s into an early grave.” She managed to get the food into her mouth without dropping it.

Ping frowned. “What do you mean?”

She glanced over at him. “The dead carry illness with them. If you don’t bury, burn, or abandon the bodies, then you’ll get sick and die soon after.” Setting her bowl down, she grabbed her cup of tea. This batch tasted better; it was sweeter.

Ping looked horrified. “That—That’s _not_ true. The bodies of those who have died _from_ sickness may still carry the disease, but if they died of old age or from some sort of injury, the bodies are harmless.”

Zhu shrugged, not wanting to argue the point. She was positive she had seen more dead bodies than anyone in the Moo-Shung camp. She was also certain that she had _made_ more dead bodies than anyone else.

Poking at his food, Ping let out a sigh. “Is this—Is this your first time in the military?” he asked, glancing over at Zhu.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned, brow rising.

“You’re unfazed when it comes to talking about death. The only people I’ve heard so unfazed are seasoned warriors…”

“Death has been around me my whole life, from the time my mother gave birth to me to the time when I received my conscription notice,” she told him. “Death is more of an old friend than an enemy at this point.”

Ping fell silent; Zhu was thankful for that. She wanted to get her food eaten and her tea drunk so she could go check on Umut. But, after a few minutes, Ping broke the silence once again. She closed her eyes in irritation.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Brows furrowing, Zhu looked over at him. “You’re… _sorry_? For _what_?” she questioned, sounding more than a little confused. ‘Why is he apologizing?’ she thought. ‘Is it because of what happened last night or during staff training? I honestly couldn’t care less—’

“I’m sorry that death’s been a large part of your life,” Ping told him. “No one should have to go through that.”

Zhu shifted slightly; she didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever apologized to her, let alone for something that couldn’t be stopped. She opened her mouth to say something, but promptly shut it again when she realized she still had no words.

After a few, awkward minutes, she finally managed a response. “You don’t need to apologize for something that can’t be helped,” she began, staring at the grass in front of her. “Death has taught me many things throughout my life, the most important being how to _survive_.”

Ping looked at him, confused. “How to survive…?”

“There’s no greater motivation to live than hunger eating away at your stomach or finding yourself at the end of someone’s blade.” Lifting her bowl to her mouth, she finally looked away from the grass. She started to shovel the rest of her lunch into her mouth. Then, putting her teacup in her now-empty bowl, she stood up. “I need to go check on my horse.”

As she walked away, she knew Ping wanted to stop her and try to talk more, but she didn’t want to deal with him anymore. He was being a nuisance, what with trying to apologize for things he knew nothing about and telling her that dead bodies were harmless.

“I’d like to hear him say that after moving one and having it _shit_ all over him,” she grumbled.

 

After checking on Umut and making sure she was alright, Zhu went to the edge of the forest. When she got there, she found Shang drawing circles on different trees. He glanced over at her when she approached, but said nothing as he walked on, drawing more circles on more trees.

‘Archery lessons?’ she thought, seeing quivers of arrows and bows resting against the trunks of the trees. ‘This will be _easy_.’

She went over and plucked up one of the bows. It was different from her own; it was a self-bow and wasn’t recurve. Drawing back the string, she found that it took _less_ effort than what she was used to. At the same time, though, she knew its length wasn’t great for firing from horseback.

‘Less likely to fail in wet weather, though,’ she thought, easing the tension on the string before setting it back down. ‘Not as much power behind it, either, but I’m sure it can out-distance my bow.’

“Look who’s the early bird!”

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ling and Yao walking towards her.

‘Why do these people keep talking to me?’ she thought, somehow managing to suppress a groan.

“Looks like we’re going to be working on archery next!” Ling chirped, seeing the bows. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to use a bow.”

Yao waved his hand dismissively. “Bows are only good when you’re too scared t’ meet your opponent face-to-face,” he said. “Or for when you’re huntin’.

Her brow rose. “Is that so?”

He nodded, crossing his arms. “ _Real_ warriors fight up close and personal. Ya gotta be able to see the whites of their eyes to be doin’ it right.”

Ling rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re only saying that because you don’t know how to use a bow, either.”

Yao frowned, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink. “Hey, who’s the kid more likely to listen to? You, the guy who’s never won a fight in his life, or me, the champion wrestler?”

“I’ve won a few fights!”

“Yeah, only because _I_ jumped in to help.”

Zhu looked between the two of them. “Wait…you’ve known each other your whole lives, yet you’ve never taught him how to fight?” she questioned. That didn’t make sense to her.

Wasn’t that something everyone grew up learning?

“I’ve tried,” Yao shrugged, “but he’s too lanky for any of it t’ be effective. I could break him if I grip him too hard.”

“What he means is, he’s too _short_ to show me properly,” Ling snickered. He jumped back as Yao tried to shove him.

Her brows furrowed. “…Do you at least know how to block a punch to the face?”

Ling cocked a brow, chuckling. “Yeah -duck out of the way and run for cover,” he joked.

She shook her head, not entirely understanding that he was trying to be funny. “No. If you duck, then you can get kneed in the face or they can get you in a headlock. Either one of those will leave you incapacitated and unable to fight.”

Yao chuckled, his brow rising. “He was tryin’ t’ be funny,” he told her, “but you’re right. I’m always tellin’ him he needs to find someone t’ teach him how to fight right because one of these days, I won’t be there t’ get him out of trouble.”

His eyes then widened and he grinned, nudging Ling. “Heeey! I bet if ya ask him nicely, Zhu will give you some fightin’ lessons! He’s the same size as you -he could show ya better than I could.”

Zhu opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t get a word out before Ling started talking. “Are you sure you _trust_ someone else?” he countered. “The minute you see someone _about_ to hit me, you’re usually at their throats.”

She tried again to speak, but Yao beat her. “He wouldn’t be hittin’ you full force, so I’m pretty sure I’d be able t’ keep ahold of myself,” he said, voice sarcastic. He then looked at Zhu. “We’ve got enough time before the next trainin’ session starts. Why don’t ya show him how to block a punch?”

‘Just play along,’ she told herself, doing her best to not let her irritation show. ‘It’ll all be over once you slit Chi-Fu’s throat…’ Holding back a sigh, she shifted into a more defensive stance. “Alright. Try to punch me,” she told Ling.

He lifted his brow. “What? But I thought-”

“If you’re going to learn how to defend yourself, you need to see _how_ first,” she told him. “Now, try to punch me.”

Doing as she instructed, Ling tried to punch her. He let out a yelp, suddenly finding himself being yanked forward when she grabbed his wrist. Before he realized what had happened, he had been thrown over her shoulder.

A groan left his mouth as he lay sprawled out on the ground. Opening his eyes, he managed a small, cheeky grin. “Guess I should’ve kept my eyes open,” he said, voice small but still bearing humor.

“Eyes open _and_ hand open,” she told him, ignoring Yao’s sniggering behind her. “Punching someone in the face with your fist is just asking for broken bones.”

For the last quarter hour of their break, Yao got to laugh even more as he watched Ling try (and fail) to block hits from Zhu. By the time Chien-Po and the other recruits joined them, he was _starting_ to get the hang of it, though he still had a long way to go. They stopped when Shang returned and joined the line of recruits as it formed.

“Being able to take out your enemy from a distance is not only safer for _you_ , but safer for the army as a whole,” he told them, handing each of them a bow and a quiver. “You can use them to take out targets in the open or when you’re hiding in the brush. You can use them to hunt. You can use them while standing, squatting, or riding. A bow is your most versatile weapon in your arsenal.”

Zhu let out a quiet sigh, ignoring Shang’s words for the most part. Already knowing how to fire one, she inspected the bow she had been handed. Though it looked identical to the one she had looked over earlier, she knew it would have its own peculiarities.

‘This one’s a bit stiffer,’ she thought, drawing back the empty string. ‘Won’t be able to hold it steady as long, but that’s fine. I don’t need long to aim.’

She looked up when she saw Shang getting ready to demonstrate how to use the bow. He brought over a bucket of targets, placing three on a small launch at his feet. She narrowed her eyes and did her best to not roll them in disapproval as he made to fire three arrows at once.

‘What is he _doing_?’ she silently questioned. ‘Shooting more than one arrow at the same time not only throws off your aim, but also ruins the force behind them! That’s the _point_ of a bow: To put all that tension behind a single arrow in order to make it deadly!’

Her brows furrowed when he managed to not only hit all his targets, but pin them to the circles in the tree in front of him.

‘It’s ten feet away. Of _course_ it’s impressive at short range…try to hit three targets fifty feet away and you’ll fail.’ Fastening the quiver around her waist, she headed over to one of the trees. She pulled out three targets (she was surprised to find that they were actually pomegranates) and set them on her launch-board.

Looking up from her spot on the ground, she watched as arrows flew awry of their targets or simply fell to the ground. A few were able to hit their target trees, but were way off target. A few of the men even let out howls of pain as the fletching cut their forearm or the bowstring struck their cheek.

“Have _none_ of these men hunted before?” she mumbled.

Shaking her head, she stood up and positioned herself in front of her board. Before launching her pomegranates, she pulled out three arrows, tucking them between her thumb and forefingers. Launching the fruit, she nocked her first arrow.

Within seconds, all three pomegranates were pinned to the tree in their own circles.

As she placed more fruit on the launch-board, she could feel the stares of the nearby recruits. She ignored them and shot three more pomegranates to the tree.

Zhu was getting ready to shoot three more arrows when Shang came over. Though his face was fairly emotionless, she could see the slightest bit of a grin in the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve some skill with a bow,” he told her.

She launched the fruit, not looking at him. “I hunt,” she replied simply, firing the arrows.

“Good. Then you can help me with the others.”

She frowned, turning to look at him -but he was already starting to walk away. “ _What_?”

“Start at that end,” he ordered. “Maybe by sundown, we’ll have _someone_ hitting a target.”

‘I am _not_ here to help your people get better at this,’ she thought, taking off the quiver with a frown. Setting it and the bow on the ground, she headed for the end of the line.

‘This must be what Mundzuc felt when he had to train me...’


	5. Chpater 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's been leaving such lovely comments! I'm happy to hear you're enjoying the story!

_“Remember, little one: There are forces in this world you should never cross.” As he spoke, the figure tended to the fire in the center of the yurt. “The world is full of demons and spirits and guardians. If you come across any of these, give them the respect they deserve. Do you understand, Zhu?”_

_“Yes, Uncle Yu.” Her voice sounded younger -_ much _younger. Looking down at herself, Zhu saw that she was sitting in a pile of silk cushions and clad in the silk dress she had worn before beginning her training._

_She frowned. This…this didn’t feel right._

_Looking up, she found Shan Yu now facing her. He, too, was younger and his face still retained the love and kindness he had showed her once upon a time._ Had _he ever been this gentle with her?_

_She couldn’t remember._

_Kneeling before her, he took her small hands in his; it was almost ridiculous how great the size difference was. “My little one,” he spoke, voice soothing, “if ever one of those demons or spirits offers you great power, do_ not _take it.” Behind him, the light of the fire began to grow dim. “Do not trade your life as I did. Promise me, my little one. Promise me you’ll value life over power.”_

_She opened her mouth to talk, but the shadow was growing larger and Shan Yu’s face was aging in front of her eyes, making her falter. “I—I promise, Uncle Yu,” she finally spoke. Her voice was older; she had also aged._

_He frowned; all kindness had gone from him. “Why did you falter, Zhu?” he demanded, clenching her hands. She let out a cry of pain as his nails dug into her skin, but he didn’t seem to care. “Why did you falter in your promise!?”_

_The shadow had engulfed all light by now, leaving the two of them sitting alone in a sea of black._

_“I didn’t mean to!” she told him, trying to free her hands. Once more she was older -she was now in her early teens. “I—I was scared, Uncle!”_

_She went sprawling backwards as he backhanded her. “A Hun has no fear!” he barked. “To be a Hun is to be powerful and to be powerful is to be fearless! Do you understand?” As he stared at her, she saw only disappointment and anger in his black eyes._

_“Y-yes, sir.” Swallowing hard, she wiped the blood from her lip and pushed herself to her feet. She felt cold and empty as she stood up; she was now in her late teens. “I will be fearless and powerful, just like you.”_

_As Shan Yu reached down, grabbing the neck of her shirt, the darkness suddenly pulled in on itself. It twisted and writhed behind him, pulsating with a strange light._

_Zhu was her proper age now. Shan Yu’s face was cold and unfeeling as he yanked her to his eye-level. “You are a Hun, Shan Zhu. Remember that.” He raised his arm and the darkness darted forward. It circled his forearm before forming into an all-too familiar shape: Hayabusa. The falcon stared at her with pure malice and hatred. “Power and fearlessness are what makes us unstoppable.”_

_“I am one of your elite, sir. To be an elite is to be the most fearless and the most powerful. I will be nothing less.”_

_“Then prove it.”_

_He thrust out his arm, sending Hayabusa flying towards her. Her eyes widened -the falcon was flying right for her, his talons aimed at her face—_

Zhu eyes shot open, but she saw only black. Bolting upright, she crawled out of her bedroll and over to her belongings. Needing no light, she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and, not bothering to comb it, tied her hair up.

She bolted from her tent, taking no notice that the moon was still high in the sky -it was only an hour or two after midnight. But she didn’t care about that.

She had to get to Umut.

After what seemed like forever to her, she finally reached the stables. The two stallions snorted at her presence, but otherwise ignored her. Umut, however, let out a soft nicker as stuck her head out of her stall.

Throwing open the door, Zhu darted forward and clung onto the horse’s neck. A wave of relief washed over her when she felt Umut’s soft coat and silky mane under her palms. She pressed her ear against her neck, listening to the beating of Umut’s heart and feeling the rhythm of her breathing.

Umut was real. This was _real_. She was no longer asleep.

“It was just a dream,” she whispered, still clinging onto the mare. Her entire body felt limp.  “Just a dream. It wasn’t real.” A shaky sigh left her mouth.

She had had dreams like that before, though this was the first -and most vivid- in a long while. Most times, she was able to wake up _knowing_ it had just been a dream, but sometimes she was left panicked and thoughtless. She _hated_ that it had left her so scared and so careless.

She was a Hun. She had to be fearless.

Moving so that her forehead rested against Umut’s, she let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to be brave when I let a _dream_ scare me so bad?” Her eyes stung, but she was able to hold back tears. She wouldn’t allow herself to show _that_ much cowardice.

Umut shifted, pulling her head away so she could nuzzle her rider. Then, resting her head on Zhu’s shoulder, she pulled the human closer to her neck once more. A familiar sense of calm slowly began to creep its way into Zhu’s mind and she let out a sigh of relief, stroking Umut’s neck.

“Um…Zhu?”

Her eyes snapped open and she tensed up. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Ping standing a few feet away. Thanks to the nearly-full moon, she was also able to see the look of concern on his face. She also saw that his hair was down and somewhat messy -he had been asleep, too.

It made his face look softer -in fact, it almost looked feminine.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, voice also betraying his worry. “I saw you running—I thought…I thought something may have happened.”

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted. For the first time in two weeks, Zhu found herself _not_ annoyed by the young recruit. In fact, she almost felt _thankful_ for his presence.

Had she really been so scared to welcome the presence of an annoyance?

“It…it brought back a lot of bad memories,” she added, turning away from Ping. She felt ashamed for admitting that, but it also made her feel a bit more relieved.

Ping looked visibly surprised by her admittance, but he gave her a pitying smile. “I hate those,” he told her. “Especially when they’re so lifelike, you don’t really know if you’re _actually_ awake when you open your eyes.”

She was surprised to hear that someone else had gone through the same experience. “You have those, too?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Ping step closer to Umut. She allowed him to hold out his hand for Umut to sniff.

He nodded as Umut accepted him. “Yeah. Mostly of the times when I disappointed my family…” He let out a heavy sigh, glancing away as he stroked Umut’s nose. “Or being sent back home and bringing dishonor to my father…”

“Why would you bring him dishonor? You’re _trying_ as hard as you can to be a soldier. Nothing is more honorable than trying your best.” She looked over at Ping, seeing a bit of confusion on his face. “Even if you _do_ fail, it doesn’t mean you can’t excel at something else. Not _everyone_ was born to be a soldier, just like not _everyone_ was born to be an emperor or a scholar or a farmer.” She surprised herself with her words; why was she trying to encourage the kid?

Ping let out a small laugh. “That’s kind of true,” he agreed, “though, my parents wouldn’t see it in the same light.” He shook his head, still wearing a small smile, though it looked more sad than amused. “I should probably get back to bed. I—uh, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick or anything.”

She nodded. “That’s a good idea.” She turned back to Umut as Ping started to walk off, but she paused. “Hey, Ping?”

He stopped, glancing over at her. “Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

Ping smiled. “You’re welcome. Sleep better, okay?”

“Yeah. You, too.” Stepping out of the stall, she closed the gate. Umut kept her head poked out, though, letting Zhu rest her head against hers once more. A strange feeling lingered throughout her body -it almost felt like relief. But it was different in that it made her whole body, not just her mind, feel light.

‘Why do I feel like this?’ she thought, finally pulling away from the mare. Saying goodnight to her, she started to head back to her tent. ‘I’ve never felt this before.’ She covered her mouth as she yawned. ‘It’s probably just a side effect of being tired. After a day like yesterday, I’m sure everyone is feeling off.’

She furrowed her brows at the memory of falling into the lake and having to swim back to shore thanks to Chien-Po and his fear of falling in. They were _supposed_ to be running across poles hammered into the lake as a way to work on their balance, but halfway along, Chien-Po froze up. With nowhere to go, everyone behind him ended up in the water.

It had been a _long_ swim back to shore.

Shaking her head, Zhu went back into her tent. She kicked off her shoes with a sigh and laid down, not bothering to change out of her clothes. What was the point? She’d just have to put them back on in a few hours.

Going back to sleep proved to be a difficult task. Her mind kept going back to the nightmare, back to the sight of her younger selves and how she had changed since she was a child.

How Shan Yu had changed.

But were those actual memories of hers? Or were they just illusions created by her sleeping mind?

‘They have to be false memories,’ she told herself. ‘They _have_ to be. Shan Yu was once kind to me, but not _that_ kind. But Hayabusa…that thrice damned _demon_ -’

She let out a gasp as the falcon’s eyes flashed through her memory, as sharp as if he were right in front of her. Clenching her eyes shut, she curled up into a small ball. She slipped her hand under her pillow, feeling a bit of comfort as her fingers brushed against the bone handle of her dagger.

‘Just a dream,’ she told herself. ‘It was all just a _dream_.’


	6. Chapter 6

“You think we should get a stick or somethin’?”

“Why would we need a _stick_?”

“Y’know, in case he tries to kill us or somethin’.”

“Come _on_! He’s our buddy, Yao! He won’t hurt us!”

“I dunno. I still think we should get a stick. Somethin’ tells me he isn’t the best one to jolt awake.”

“It’ll be _fiiine_! Just watch!”

Yao did just that, watching as Ling stepped forward and knelt beside the sleeping Zhu.

“Hey, Zhu! It’s almost noon!” he said, giving her shoulder a small shake. “You need to-ACK!”

Zhu had suddenly flipped around and, grabbing the neck of Ling’s shirt, slammed him down on the ground. Her eyes were wide and wild and her mouth was drawn back in a snarl. She looked like an animal fighting for its life.

Ling threw his arms over his face. “It’s me!” he cried. “It’s me, Ling! Don’t hurt me!”

Breathing heavily, she stared at him for a moment before the realization kicked in. Her brows furrowing, she pulled away from him only to sit on the far edge of her bedroll. Darting forward, Yao used his free hand to help Ling sit up; he frowned, seeing Zhu bury her face in her hands. He couldn’t tell if she was guilty or annoyed by what just took place.

“ _Kick_ me next time,” she told them, her voice betraying her exhaustion. “Otherwise, I’ll think you’re trying to slit my throat…”

Yao and Ling exchanged concerned looks.

“Sorry, by the way. You…you startled me.” She now rubbed her face, cursing under her breath. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon.” Ling rubbed the back of his neck. “We—ah—we saved you some breakfast!” he said, trying to liven the mood.

“Yeah!” Yao thrust a bowl of noodles, meat, and boiled eggs at her. “It’s even still warm!”

She cocked her brow, looking at them in confusion. Her cheeks were dark red in embarrassment. “You…saved me breakfast?”

“Yeah!” Yao handed the bowl over. “We didn’t see you at breakfast, so we started gettin’ worried.”

Zhu plucked an egg half from the bowl, taking a bite out of it. “You were worried about me?” she asked, her mouth full of egg. No one had ever been worried about her before.

“Uh, yeah?” Ling chuckled. “You’re always so punctual, I wouldn’t doubt half the _camp_ was worried about you.”

Just as her blush had started to fade, she felt it return to her cheeks. “Oh…” She felt embarrassed, but there was another feeling mingling with it -but what that feeling was, she had no idea.

Looking down in her bowl, she noticed that there was a distinct lack of chopsticks. “Uh—no offense, but _how_ am I supposed to eat this?”

A look of realization came over their faces and Ling smacked his forehead. “Oh! Right!” He leaned over, reaching under the sash around his waist. “Aha! Here it is!” With a proud grin, he held out a strange, pronged object. “Chien-Po made this for you!” he told her as she took it.

“It’s a fork,” Yao explained. “You can use it t’ eat instead of chopsticks. Chien-Po remembered seein’ something like it in the temple we grew up in and thought you could use it.”

She looked it over, surprised by the gesture. “He really made this? For _me_?” She had seen forks before, but they had always been used for cooking meat and were much longer than what she now held.

She also remembered Edeco using one to stab the eyes out of a man who had tried to steal his horse. This fork, however, was much too short and narrow for that sort of task.

“Yeah,” Ling grinned. “Since you still have problems with chopsticks. He _was_ going to make you a pair of child-sized chopsticks to see if that’d help you out, but I told him your hands were too big for that.”

Her cheeks darkened even more. “The fork is less humiliating,” she mumbled, using it to gather up some noodles. There was a strange, warm feeling spreading through her body that _wasn’t_ brought on by spiciness of her breakfast. “Where is he? Normally, the three of you can’t be separated.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Yao said, sitting down. “He had t’ use the latrines first.”

She nodded in understanding before taking a bite of noodles -a _large_ bite. The fork was _much_ better at moving food.

Ling leaned forward, crossing his legs. “So, uh…you _were_ joking about us kicking you, right?” He let out a small, nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s _really_ hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“No.” Glancing up, she saw the horrified looks on their faces. She didn’t understand what was wrong; everyone she knew had to be awakened with a kick lest the person doing the waking wanted to be killed. The only exception was Shan Yu.

 _No one_ dared to disturb him.

“If you kick me,” she continued, “then I know you’re an ally. Otherwise, I’d panic and draw my knife.” She stabbed a piece of meat, shoving it in her mouth; it had been awhile since she was able to take large bites. “You’re actually fairly lucky I didn’t this time.” As she stirred her noodles, she didn’t see the look of pure terror on Ling’s face.

Yao, however, wore a pitying expression. “You’ve lived a messed-up life, kid.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Kid, you just told us you sleep with a _knife_ under your pillow ‘cause you think someone’s goin’ t’ kill you!”

She stiffened slightly, her brows furrowing. “Don’t you sleep with knives under your pillows or hidden on your persons?”

“Of course we _don’t_!” Ling cried, eyes wide with horror.

She looked between the two of them, feeling utterly confused. Nodding towards Yao, she poked around in her bowl, looking for another egg half. “You’re a fighter -don’t _you_ sleep with a knife?”

He shook his head once more. “Don’t need one. I don’t have t’ worry about people attacking me while I sleep.”

Zhu gawked at them. In return, they looked at her with concern.

Chien-Po suddenly poked his head into the tent, smiling brightly. “Did you give him the fork?” He then saw looks on their faces and frowned. “Oh…I see I’ve arrived at a bad time.” He came fully within the tent, though he stayed near the entrance due to a lack of room.

Ling glanced over his shoulder at him. “Chien-Po, tell Zhu that it’s not normal to sleep with a knife.”

His raised a hand to his mouth in shock. “Oh dear me! No, that’s not normal at all!”

Yao and Ling looked at her. “See? It ain’t normal,” Yao told her.

Zhu remained silent, looking down into her bowl again; she suddenly didn’t feel very hungry. There was a strange emptiness filling her chest; it felt oddly tight. Though she didn’t recognize that feeling, there was another she felt: Jealousy.

Were they really able to sleep without worry…?

“Are you alright, Zhu?” Chien-Po asked, worry on his face. “We didn’t upset you, did we?”

She shook her head, coming out of her thoughts. “No, I’m fine.” She feigned a reassuring smile. “Change of subject: Thank you for the fork, Chien-Po. It’s making eating a _lot_ easier.”

He perked at this, a bright smile coming to his face. “Does it? I was hoping you would! Did I get the size of the tines right, though? I was worried that I may have made them too short and too far apart.”

Shrugging, she twirled up more noodles. “They’re working just fine for me. How did you come up with it?”

“It came to me while I was meditating.”

“He gets his best ideas when he does that,” Ling told her. He then let out a small laugh. “He and Qi were the only ones out of all us who were able to get the hang of meditating.”

Yao pouted. “Speak for yourself!” he said, giving him a small shove. “I meditate when I get angry!”

“Yeah, only when Chien-Po’s around. The rest of the time, you’re knockin’ skulls together!”

He frowned, his hand forming a fist. “I’ll knock _your_ skull-” He paused, seeing the disapproving look on Chien-Po’s face. Almost instantly, he slouched forward, looking away from his friends and grumbling under his breath. “I’ll let Zhu rough him up durin’ their lessons later.”

Her brow rose. “What makes you think he’s getting one today?”

At that, Ling straightened up, his eyes wide with pleasant surprise. “I get the day off?!”

“Don’t get used to it,” she told him through a mouthful of egg. Swallowing, she set her mostly-empty bowl aside. “I’m only giving you the day off because Shang _ordered_ us to rest.”

“Oh yeah,” Yao murmured. “We’re startin’ our night training tonight, aren’t we? What do you think Shang’s going to teach us?”

Ling leaned back on his hands. “You don’t know? He’s going to be teaching us how to fire cannons!”

Zhu’s brow rose. She had heard of cannons before, but aside from knowing that they exploded, she didn’t know what they were.

Chien-Po frowned slightly. “I’m not so sure we should be learning _that_ just yet,” he murmured. “We’re still learning how to fire _arrows_.”

Yao blew a raspberry, waving his hand. “How much harder could cannons be? You point them, you light them, and then ya cover your ears. Easy as dim sum.”

“There is much more to it than that, I’m sure,” Chien-Po sighed. “For things that are directly in front of you, yes, that is what you do. But when you’re aiming at something that is behind something you _can’t_ shoot, then you need to take into account your trajectory and—” He suddenly went quiet as Ling reached up, covering his mouth.

“Shhh…Yao doesn’t understand such big words,” he said, his voice betraying his jest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yao reaching to grab him, but he quickly lashed out, knocking Yao’s arm inwards.

Thrown off balance, Yao started to fall forward. Using his surprise to his advantage, Ling grabbed both his hands and held them above his head while using his legs to get Yao in a chokehold. Yao looked up at him, his jaw slack.

“Ha!” Ling grinned victoriously. “Can’t get me so easily _now_ , can you?”

Zhu cocked her brow, smirking slightly. “There may be hope for you yet, Ling.”

 

Late afternoon found the Moo-Shung camp rather quiet for once. Most of the recruits were either napping in their tents or playing quiet games of checkers or shuttlecock. Some, like Yao and Ling, had offered to help Shang set up for that night’s lesson while Chien-Po helped the chef prepare for dinner.

Zhu, though, spent her time alone, sitting on the shores of the lake. Her shoes and socks lay beside her and she had her pants rolled up over her knees as she dangled her feet in the cool water. She was almost tempted to strip down and swim, but during the day, that would have been suicide. Two more nights and she’d be safe.

That is, if there was enough time after their lessons to bathe.

‘Whether there is or isn’t doesn’t matter,’ she thought with a sigh. ‘I’ll stay up late and bathe if I have to. Tomorrow, most of the recruits will bathe; the night after, Shang and Chi-Fu. Then I’ll bathe on the third day and, for some reason, Ping will bathe the night after.’

Closing her eyes, she let herself flop backwards, her arms flung out to her sides. ‘If only Chi-Fu was the one to bathe by himself the night after me…then I can slit his throat and be rid of this place and those three—those three _oddballs_!’

She dug her fingers into the earth, clenching her teeth. ‘I can’t believe them, having the luxury to not worry for their lives. And they don’t even understand how _lucky_ they are for that! Even Shan Yu sleeps with a knife under his pillow and he has that _demon_ watching over him!’

With a curse, she sat upright again and pulled her feet from the water, crossing her legs. “They don’t know what ‘normal’ is for me,” she murmured. “There _is_ no ‘normal’ in my life…” As the water became still, she looked down at her reflection. A sense of reassurance came over her; she still looked like the battle-hardened, fearless Hun elite that she was.

The piercing cry of a falcon filled her ears and a pair of blood-red and yellow eyes suddenly appeared in the water, scowling up at her.

She swore, throwing herself backwards away from the water. Her heart racing, she searched the skies for any sign of a falcon, but there were no birds to be seen. After a couple of minutes passed, she slowly crept forward and cautiously peeked over the ledge.

She saw only herself.

‘Can he… _see_ me?’ she thought, brows furrowing. ‘I know he acts as Shan Yu’s eyes from afar, but can he really see me from _that_ sort of distance?’ She rubbed her face, cursing under her breath. ‘Why does that worry me? Even if he _can_ see me, I’m doing _exactly_ as Shan Yu ordered: Taking my time so that I can get the job done _right_ and return to the army _alive_.’

A heavy sigh left her mouth; her stomach felt a bit queasy at the thought of Hayabusa watching her every move. A few seconds later, she heard rustling behind her, making her stiffen. She looked over her shoulder only to find Ping coming towards the shore. He held a small bundle of dirtied clothes and seemed to be talking to himself.

‘Hm. That’s right. The others have more than one set of clothes,’ she told herself. She had just been washing hers when she bathed -it was risky, yes, but it was better than smelling awful.

Ping stopped when he saw Zhu sitting there and his cheeks turned slightly pink. “Oh...uh, hey there, Zhu.” He offered her an awkward smile.

“Hello,” she replied. “You chose a good day for laundry; the water’s not too cold.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ping glanced away. “You look like you’re wanting to be alone, though, so I’ll just come back ah-another time.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m mostly hiding from Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po.”

He cocked his head. “Really? Why?”

She was silent for a moment, remembering the conversation they had earlier about knives and sleeping. Combined with how she had pinned Ling to the ground upon waking, she was sure she had instilled at least a moderate amount of fear in them.

It was supposed to be a _good_ thing -she didn’t want anything or anyone messing up her mission- but at the same time, it had left her with a strange emptiness in her chest.

“I think I frightened them,” she admitted, looking out over the lake.

“…How?” He came to the edge of the water, sitting down to take off his shoes and socks.

“Yao and Ling came to wake me this morning,” she started, “but they didn’t—they didn’t know that I need to be _kicked_ awake rather than shaken. I ended up tackling Ling to the ground out of surprise.” The empty feeling was returning to her chest, but this time, it brought with it a sick churning of her stomach. “After apologizing, I told them they were lucky I hadn’t drawn my knife on him as well…” Glancing over at Ping, she saw him staring at her.

He looked away, rolling up his pant legs. “You sleep with a knife?” For once, Ping didn’t sound surprised.

“I have to. Back home, if I didn’t keep a knife on me, I’d end up dead.”

“That makes sense.” He peeked over at her as he stood. “Your life seems to be rougher than most of ours,” he said, wading knee-deep into the lake with his clothes. “A few of the other guys grew up in poor conditions, too. I’m sure they know what it’s like to have to sleep with a knife.” He offered her a small smile.

“I didn’t know that,” she murmured, resting her chin on her knees. Her eyes narrowed somewhat as she looked at Ping’s soiled laundry; there was blood on some of his pants. From the looks of it, the blood was in the crotch of one of the pairs. “Did you get hurt during one of our lessons…?” she questioned. “If so, that’s an odd place to get wounded.”

Ping’s cheeks turned bright red and he quickly dunked the cloth underwater. “Heh, yeah. Got kind of a bad cut on my leg a few days ago. I accidentally scratched open the scab and used my pants to stop the bleeding. I wasn’t paying attention to what part I was using, though.”

She nodded in understanding, though she didn’t wholly believe him; he had spoken too fast and there was nervousness in his words. “Good thing you’ve spare clothes, then.”

He looked up from scrubbing. “…You don’t?”

“No. Couldn’t afford a second set.”

“Understandable.” He shrugged slightly. “If, uh…you’re ever in need, though, I’ve got a couple sets. You’re free to borrow one. You know, in case you fall in mud or get covered in congee…”

Zhu cocked her head, baffled by his offer. “Why are you saying that?”

Ping glanced up again, still scrubbing. “Saying what? That you can borrow my clothes if yours get disgusting?”

“Yes. They’re _yours_.” She had a bemused frown on her face. “Why are you so freely offering them to someone else? There’s a chance you would never get them back.” She looked down at her own clothes, plucking at the collar of her outer shirt. “These are expensive. To risk never getting them back is insane.”

He stood up straight, staring at Zhu with a mixture of confusion and pity. “It’s a gesture of kindness,” he told her. “Haven’t you ever shared anything with your friends or let them borrow something for a day or two?”

“I’ve never had friends. Except Umut.” Her voice had been quiet and almost ashamed.

A strange noise came from behind Ping and he quickly reached behind him, grabbing at the back of his neck. Zhu barely noticed, thinking he had simply passed wind. “Even when your father was healthy, you didn’t have any?”

She shook her head. “No. We were always traveling before he got sick. I didn’t have enough time to make friends before we had to move again.”

Ping was quiet for a moment, watching her as she let one leg slip back into the water. “…Well, if you want, you can consider me a friend.”

Zhu looked up, brow rising. “What?”

“If you want. I mean, I know we didn’t start out on the best foot, but…” He shrugged, cheeks a bit pink once again.

Suddenly, she felt lighter; the emptiness squeezing her chest had lessened and her stomach was no longer queasy. “I think…I’d like that.” She did her best to not make the words sound calculated; having ‘friends’ would only help her seem more like a Chinese soldier.

Though, while she was thankful that she was beginning to feel better, she was left confused. She almost felt _happy_ about this -but _why_? She was lying. She didn’t want Ping as a friend; _no one_ in their right mind would want such a clumsy fool as their friend!

A wide grin came to Ping’s face; it must have been the light playing tricks on her, but Zhu thought the smile looked rather girlish. “Then it’s settled: We’re friends. And if you ever need to borrow some clothes, just let me know.”

“I’m fine for now,” she assured him. “But thanks for the offer.”

Ping leaned over, starting to wash his clothes again. “By the way: I’m sure you can count Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po as friends, too. They certainly seem to think themselves your friends, after all.”

“Well, Chien-Po _did_ make me a fork…”

“There you go. You don’t normally give gifts unless you’re family or friends with someone.”

As the two continued to talk, Zhu only gave half of her attention to the conversation. Her mind was screaming at her: This was wrong.

Ping _wasn’t_ her friend.

Those three oddballs _definitely_ weren’t her friends.

But was Ping really her _enemy_? Were Yao, Chien-Po, and Ling her enemies? …Were _any_ of the men in the camp her enemy?

Part of her said _‘yes’_.

A louder part of her said _‘no’_.

She was thankful when Ping finally finished washing his clothes and headed back to his tent. Letting out a quiet curse, she held her head in her hands.

‘Why are these damned people messing with me so badly?’ she thought, eyes clenched shut. ‘Why is being around them making me feel all of these strange things? I never felt them around Shan Yu or the elite!’

She was being weak and cowardly, nothing at all like the Hun she was supposed to be.

‘But you’re only _half_ Hun,’ a quiet, yet stern, voice in her mind said. The voice wasn’t her own, yet she knew she had heard it before. But where? ‘You’re also half _Chinese_ , Zhu. Your mother was of these people— _your_ people.’

‘No!’ she countered. ‘It’s because of these people that my mother is _dead_. That my father is _dead_. I may be Chinese in blood, but I will _never_ be one of them!’

‘Are the Chinese really to blame for their deaths?’ The voice was louder now, though it did not yell. ‘Or was that just another one of the lies Shan Yu fed you?’

Her brows furrowed as she frowned. ‘Shan Yu would _never_ lie to me or to any of the elite.’

‘He told you he would _never_ allow his men to hurt you, yet you’re constantly beaten by them. He told you that he would _make sure_ you lived a better life than him, and yet here you are, no better off than one of his common soldiers despite being one of his elite. _He promised he would never hurt you, and yet he’s the one who causes you the most pain and misery.’_

Zhu neither said nor thought a word. Her eyes stung as they began filling with tears.

‘These people who have only known you _two weeks_ are growing to care about you more than Shan Yu ever has. They don’t treat you like a burden. They don’t beat you, berate you, or humiliate you.’

She let out a shaky breath; her entire body felt both tense and jittery at the same time. ‘That’s a lie! Roua and Ruga care about me. Shan Yu cares about me. I _know_ they do. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for them-’

‘You’re only alive because they still find you useful. The minute you’re no longer of use, they will not hesitate to kill you. You know this. You know Shan Yu doesn’t suffer useless people to live. They’re just a waste of his time.’

Closing her eyes, she felt the tears finally starting to roll down her cheeks. She couldn’t think of an argument against the voice. She could only hope that it was wrong.

But she knew it was right.


	7. Chapter 7

“Fire!”

In unison, the row of recruits struck their pieces of flint. The sparks fell onto fuses, lighting them. Half a minute of silence passed.

Zhu clenched her eyes shut and covered her ears. Her efforts were of little use, though. The quiet was torn asunder as the dragon-headed projectiles shot out of their bamboo cannons, flying through the sky.

As her cannon took off, she was just barely able to keep herself from crying out. She wasn’t able to keep herself from jumping back with a mixture of fear and surprise, however. Sulfuric smoke filled her lungs and she started coughing; she did her best to wave the smoke away.

“Once again, _none_ of you came close to the target,” Shang called out from his spot on a hill above. “This is our third night of cannon practice! I had hoped at least _some_ of you would have gotten within the circle.”

Rubbing her face, Zhu grumbled under her breath as Shang gave out the order for them to try yet again. She got to her feet and joined the crowd of men as they went to retrieve their fifth cannon of the night. As she started reaching for one of the last cannons, she was shoved out of the way by one of the larger, more muscular men.

“Step aside, scaredy-pants,” he sneered, snatching the cannon she had intended to grab. “Let us _real_ men handle the explosives.” He started to walk away, the cannon resting on his shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes, growling quietly. “Talk to me like that again and I’ll break your jaw,” she hissed, but he was already out of range. Cursing under her breath, she turned back to the wagon only to find that it was empty.

Part of her was thankful for this -she had come to learn that she _hated_ cannons. They were loud, blinding, and their smoke thick and choking. She had let out a terrified yell their first night of practice, earning her the ridicule of almost everyone in the camp. Even Shang had pointed her out, using her as an example of how _not_ to react when firing the cannons

But another part of her was upset. She wanted to prove she wasn’t scared of the cannons and how could she do that if there wasn’t one for her to fire? Her only consolation was that a handful of the others also didn’t have the chance to grab a cannon, leaving them to sit on the wagon and watch as the rest made their final attempt for the night.

Even after covering her ears, she flinched as the cannons were lit and took to the skies. As she uncovered her ears, she could hear some sniggering behind her. She threw a glare over her shoulder; the men instantly fell quiet.

At least she had enough reputation left to leave them intimidated.

A different sound caught her attention: Clapping. Looking up at the cliff where Shang watched over them, she saw him grinning as he clapped.

“Congratulations, Tingfei,” he called out. Zhu saw the man who had mocked her look up, surprise on his face. “You’re the first to land in the target zone.”

A small cheer rose up from the men around him and he was promptly given playful punches and shoves as he was congratulated.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Shang warned. “You still didn’t hit the target -you only came _near_ to it. Now everyone, gather up the remains of the cannons. Once the area is cleared, you’re free to get your midnight lunch.”

Walking forward, Zhu started tucking shattered bamboo tubes under her arm. Her brows furrowed somewhat; the whole area reeked of sulfur. After five tubes, she had to stop, pulling her shirt over her mouth and nose as she started coughing.

“The trick is to breathe through your nose.” She looked down only to look up at Chien-Po. “For some reason, it’s not nearly as bad if you’re only using your nose. Admittedly, it smells worse, but that is to be expected.”

“It’s horrible no matter what,” she told him. Regardless, she attempted to do as he said and found that he was right. “Isn’t there a way to make the smoke more pleasant? Like adding in some sort of incense?”

He tilted his head, a thoughtful look coming to his face. “I am not sure. I don’t think so, though.” He offered to take the tubes she had already collected and she gladly handed them over. “In order to make gunpowder, you need to have exact measurements of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter. I know you can add certain minerals to make it change colors -that’s how you get fireworks- but I’m not sure if it would be possible to make the smoke more pleasant.”

She frowned. “That’s a shame.” Sighing, she slid her foot under one of the discarded tubes and, with a small kick upwards, caught it and tucked it under her arm.

“Perhaps it’s for the best, though,” he chuckled. “Even incense can become an annoyance in large quantities.”

“That is true.” She started reaching for another tube when at least six more were dropped at her feet. Her eyes narrowing, she looked up to find Tingfei smirking down at her. “Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” Now that she was getting a better look at him, she realized something: He was the man she had started the brawl with.

No wonder he was being an ass.

“Giving you a bit of help,” he told her, mock kindness in his voice. “You see, by being around more of these things, it’ll help you be less of a _baby_ when it comes time to shoot them.”

Her lips pulled back in a snarl as he turned away, laughing. She was about to drop her spent tubes and beat him within an inch of his life, but Chien-Po stepped forward, blocking Tingfei’s path. He looked down at the man with a pleasant smile, though it was not returned by the smaller man.

“It is up to _all_ of us to share in these duties,” Chien-Po said, his voice as gentle as ever. “Zhu is doing his part to help clean up the area, just as you should. After all, it would be a shame if the Captain were to discover that his star recruit of the day was slacking off in his duties, would it not?”

Zhu blinked. She didn’t know if it was his sheer size or the gentle way in which he threatened Tingfei that did it, but the man had turned a bit pale and nodded. Wordlessly, he turned back around, gathering up the tubes he had dropped before running off towards the wagon.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up at Chien-Po.

He gave her a knowing smile. “You don’t _always_ need violence to settle disputes.”

She felt her cheeks darken and she glanced away. “I know,” she murmured. Finally picking up the last few tubes, she tucked them under her arm and, with Chien-Po beside her, headed for the cart.

Yao and Ling were waiting for them; Yao’s hands were black with soot while the sides of Ling’s face were black from resting his face in his blackened hands. Zhu mentally cursed; she had hoped they would have gone ahead to get their midnight meal. She wanted to go check on Umut, knowing that, like her, the mare wasn’t a fan of the explosives.

“Ready t’ get some food?” Yao grinned, taking Zhu’s bunch of tubes and easily tossing them into the wagon. “I’m _starvin_ ’.”

“You’re always hungry,” Ling chuckled.

As she looked at him, Zhu paused; the soot on his face made her think of the way Mundzuc’s hair hid most of his features. She froze, her eyes widening slightly as Ling was suddenly replaced by an image of Mundzuc. The Hun scowled at her, teeth bared.

“ _Stay out of our way._ Shan Yu may trust you to not fail,” he spat, “but I _don’t_.”

His arm rose and she clenched her eyes shut, her entire body stiffening in anticipation for the blow.

“Zhu? Hey, you okay?”

She cracked open an eye. Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po were in front of her, looking at her with concern.

Mundzuc was nowhere in sight.

No one was going to hit her.

“F-fine,” she told them, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “I should really go check on Umut,” she quickly told them while wearing an unconvincing smile. “Go ahead and get food; I’ll meet up with you later!”

Before any of them could object, she hurried off. She took the long way to the stables, wanting to avoid the other recruits in case Ping saw her.

She wanted to be alone. She _needed_ to be alone.

‘Why does this keep happening?’ she thought, rubbing her face. ‘First that nightmare, then Hayabusa’s image in the water, and now Mundzuc? Is this what homesickness is? If it is, I don’t like it in the least…’

Reaching the stables, she let out a sigh and headed for Umut’s stall. The mare whinnied and nervously dragged her hoof across the ground as she approached.

“Shh, shh. I’m here, little sister,” she cooed, stroking her snout. “Shh. It’s alright. No more explosions will happen tonight.”

Umut didn’t calm down; instead, she pulled away from Zhu and reared back, a frightened sound leaving her mouth. Coming to all fours again, she snorted at her rider, tossing her head and trying to back away from her.

“Is it the smell?” Zhu asked her, frowning. She knew she smelled heavily of sulfur, but she didn’t expect it to aggravate Umut _this_ much. Pushing up her sleeves, she went over to one of the water buckets. She quickly washed off her arms, praying the whole time that it would help. When she was done, she tossed the dirtied water out onto the ground; she didn’t want it to be accidentally given to the horses.

“Is this better?” She held out her still-wet hands to the mare, who sniffed them. She snorted, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed her nose into Zhu’s palm. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure I wash up a bit before coming to visit. Does that sound fair?” She stepped closer, intending to hug the mare.

Umut stepped away once again, flicking her head.

“Do my clothes smell too bad, too?” she asked, frowning. She had washed them the previous night, but being around the cannons left them also smelling like sulfur. “Alright. No hugs. Just pets. Is that alright?” Hopping up, she sat on the wall of the stall. She then held out her hands again.

Umut returned, once more pressing her nose into Zhu’s hands. Her breath was warm and moist against her palms, warming them up after their dunk in cool water.

She leaned back against the support beam and brought a leg up to her chest. The other, she let dangle freely. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the stables.

The combined noises of Umut and the two stallions -one of which she had come to learn was Ping’s and was named Khan- helped to calm her racing mind. They almost made her feel as if she were back with Shan Yu and the army.

‘I’m not, though,’ she told herself. ‘The army is out there to the north, blazing a trail across China.’ She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. The moon was out, though it was just a sliver among a sea of stars. ‘I’m here, surrounded by my enemies. Surrounded by people who want me and my people dead…just like Shan Yu wants them and their people dead.’

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, she could see Shan Yu’s face and hear his voice yelling in her mind.

‘ _Are you going soft on me, Shan Zhu?! They are our_ enemies _! If I were to spare them, what kind of message would that send to those who wish me dead?! Who wish_ you _dead!?”_

She clenched her eyes shut and tensed at the memory; she had dared to question him about why he had _everyone_ killed during their attacks.

Even those unable to fight.

‘ _They all must die. Every. Last. One. Understand this, Shan Zhu: Kindness will get you nowhere. It is only by sheer ruthlessness that you will earn people’s respect.’_

“He’s _wrong_ ,” she unconsciously said aloud, her voice echoing through the stables.

Light suddenly tore through the darkness and her eyes snapped open in shock. A curse left her mouth as she was momentarily blinded and thrown off balance. She toppled over the side of the wall, but someone caught her before she could hit the ground.

“Sorry!” Looking up, she was able to see Ling’s face through the specks in her returning vision. He was wearing an apologetic smile as he helped her stand upright. “I thought you heard me say your name.”

She was glad to see that he had washed the soot from his face.

“N-No…I guess I was too lost in my thoughts.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she straightened her clothes out. “What are you doing here?”

“To check on you? It’s been almost an hour.” He hung the lantern he brought up on a peg, letting it fill the area with light.

Her brows furrowed. “What? You’re joking.”

“For once? No.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Are you okay, Zhu? You haven’t really been yourself the last few days. It’s kind of worrying us.”

She looked at him, taken aback. “You’re…worried about me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, brow rising in confusion. “…Yes?”

“Why?”

“Uh, duh? We’re your _friends_!” He smiled reassuringly. “It’s what friends do.”

A sigh left her mouth and she glanced away. “…Guess there’s a lot more to friendship than I thought.”

Ling let out a laugh, thinking she was joking. When she still refused to look at him, though, he frowned. “You really don’t know what friendship is like?” he asked, voice quiet and full of concern.

“Ping told me that part of it is giving gifts and letting your friends borrow things, but…” She shrugged. “You three and Ping are the first friends I’ve had.” She surprised herself with the sincerity of her words.

And yet, she didn’t _entirely_ hate herself for it.

Pity came to Ling’s face. “You’ve _really_ never had friends before?”

A sarcastic laugh left her mouth. “Ling, I grew up surrounded by thieves and mercenaries. I grew up to _be_ a mercenary. Having friends was _not_ one of my priorities.” Her chest started to grow tight and her stomach began to grow nauseous. Turning away from him, she rested her head against the wall, eyes closing. “Staying alive was—is—was? I don’t know anymore—my main concern.” She hated how lost her voice sounded, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

There was silence. The wall moved slightly as Ling leaned back against it, but Zhu did nothing.

“I can’t say I know what _you_ went through,” Ling said after some minutes, voice quiet, “but I can tell you that I know what it’s like trying to stay alive.” A sigh left his mouth and he tilted his head back. “When the four of us were kicked out of the temple, it was hard. We were only thirteen. Sure, we had various skills thanks to our time in the temple, but we didn’t know how to _survive_. We spent a good three months sleeping outside regardless of weather and…well, stealing food in order to eat.

“Then Chien-Po started to get sick. And I don’t mean a simple cold or an upset stomach. I mean _couldn’t-keep-food-down-with-a-side-of-bad-fever_ kind of sick. We tried taking him to a doctor -doctors are supposed to help people, after all. But the doctor wouldn’t help him because we had no money.”

Zhu cracked open an eye, glancing over at him. “What did you do?”

“The only thing we _could_ do. Yao and I _begged_ for work while Qi did his best to keep Chien-Po alive in the meantime. Eventually, we got work at some nobleman’s stable. Every yen we earned, we saved up for that damned doctor. We didn’t even buy ourselves food. We couldn’t risk it. We worked ourselves to exhaustion. But it was worth it.”

“…You did all of that just to make sure he got better? Why?”

“Because Chien-Po is our friend.” He looked over at her, seeing her face filled with confusion and pain. “Actually, no. He’s more than that. He’s our _brother_. We may not share blood, but that doesn’t matter. We’re just as close as family.”

She slowly nodded, letting her gaze fall back to the floor. “And you would never turn your back on your family?”

“Never.” He grew concerned when she let out a quiet sigh. “So…you never answered _my_ question.”

“What question?”

“Are you okay?”

She paused for a moment. “I…honestly don’t know.” Turning around, she slid down to the ground and tilted her head back against the wall. “Ever since I came to Moo-Shung, everything I’ve ever known seems to be…to be wrong. And it feels like my life is falling apart.” She wished she were next to Umut, but she still reeked of sulfur. “I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before. I’ve been having nightmares about my father…I don’t—I don’t really know how to explain it.”

As she spoke to him, her chest started to ease up and her stomach calmed somewhat. Was talking to him _actually_ helping her feel better?

“Well…you’re adjusting to life as a soldier,” he told her, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s going to be difficult at first, right? Because you’re literally relearning how to _live_. You can’t expect yourself to get used to it overnight.”

He then let out a somewhat defeated sigh. “Sorry if none of this is helping. Chien-Po’s the one who’s good at talking to people about this sort of thing.” He was more than a little surprised when Zhu looked up at him, a smile on her lips.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “You’re helping. I guess—I guess I just needed a _friend_ to talk to.”

Her words made him perk and he grinned, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could, though, the deep booming of a drum filled their ears.

Mealtime was over.

“Damn,” he frowned. “Looks like I wasn’t able to get you back in time for food.” He offered her a hand up.

Shrugging, she took his hand and stood. “It’s fine.” A small smile came to her lips. “To be honest, I’m still not quite used to three meals a day. I’m used to only one or two.”

“Same,” he chuckled, grabbing the lantern. “We could only _afford_ one or two meals a day until now.” Waiting for her to say her goodbyes to Umut, he led her out of the stables.

They were halfway back to the group of recruits when he spoke again. “Er…Can I ask you one more thing, Zhu?”

Her brow rose as she glanced over at him. “Yes?”

“Earlier, when you ran off…you had gotten all tense when I spoke and acted like I was going to hit you. Why—why was that?”

Her brows knitted together as she looked away, shame once again darkening her cheeks. “The soot on your face made you resemble one of my uncles -at least, that's what I call the men I was raised around. I’m fairly certain I have no relation to them whatsoever.”

“And that’s bad because…?”

Her face was grim as she looked at him. “Because he _loves_ causing me pain.”

Ling cringed at the thought. “…I can see _why_ that would make you freak out,” he murmured. “I’ll try to not rub soot on my face again.”

She shook her head. “I was taken by surprise, is all.”

They reached the lineup of recruits a few minutes late. Shang was already passing out bows and quivers of hunting blunts while Chi-Fu was lighting a set of four small braziers. As Ling and Zhu quickly fell into line between Yao and Chien-Po, Chi-Fu glared at them.

“Nice of you to join us,” he told them, not even trying to hide his irritation. “And just _why_ are the two of you late?”

Zhu glanced over at Ling; he looked mildly panicked. “We were calming my horse,” she replied. “ _Sir_ ,” she quickly added.

“Oh?” It was obvious he didn’t believe her.

“Yes. She’s not used to cannon fire, so she was left frightened and anxious.”

“Hm.” He turned away from them, letting the torch become fuel for the last brazier. “Like rider, like steed I see,” he said.

Some of the men were unable to keep themselves from snickering.

Zhu’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Chi-Fu’s back. Before she could stop herself, she replied with, “Well, now I know who that _wretched-looking_ gelding belongs to.”

Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po were doing their best to stifle their laughter. Others were ‘oohing’ at her audacity.

Chi-Fu, however, was not impressed. He stormed over, his eyes narrowed in anger. “ _What_ did you just say?” he questioned, voice low and filled with the authority of his rank. He would have intimidated anyone else, but Zhu was far from impressed by his display. Even short, bald Bleda was more threatening. “Because it certainly sounded like you were trying to _mock_ me.”

She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. She _knew_ she would get reprimanded, but she spoke anyway. “I didn’t have to try very hard, _sir_.”

The dull thud of wood hitting bone echoed through the area as Chi-Fu used his writing board to smack her across the face. “How _dare_ you speak to an imperial official with such insolence!” he snapped.

If it had been any other person, she was sure she would have been knocked unconscious. The blow _did_ hurt; she knew she’d wake up with a bruised cheek. Since Chi-Fu was a weak man, however, she had barely moved. As such, she said nothing as she simply turned her head and met Chi-Fu’s gaze once more.

Her lack of a reaction seemed to have startled him. He frowned, taking a step back. He found her eyes filled with an eerie, cold intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Positive this was her way of continuing to mock him, he went to hit her again. Before he could, however, someone caught his wrist.

“We are not _Huns_ , Chi-Fu,” Shang said, his voice cool. “I will not allow violence against my men as a form of punishment.”

“Did you _hear_ what he said to me, captain?!” he cried, voice raising an octave. “I have every right-”

“In the Imperial City, _yes_ , but in my camp, _I_ dole out the punishments.”

Chi-Fu made a noise of displeasure before storming away. Zhu could see him readying his writing brush. She had the feeling he was about to write a rather lengthy complaint to the Emperor.

“Zhu.” She looked up, meeting Shang’s eyes. The intensity in her own eyes was gone, replaced by shame and apprehension. “I will not tolerate my men disrespecting their superiors.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, voice quiet and sincere.

“Not _only_ will you be the first one to run tonight, but you’re also on arrow-making duty for a _week_.” He glanced over at Yao, Ling, Chien-Po, and Ping. “And you four are _not_ allowed to help him.”

Her brows somewhat furrowed. “…Sir? _Just_ arrow-making duty?”

Shang’s brow rose ever so slightly and a hint of a smile came to his lips. “It would be _far_ worse if Chi-Fu hadn’t instigated things.” Turning, he started to walk off. “Alright, men! Into your formations!”

Zhu stared at him for a moment. ‘That’s…it?’ she thought, confused. ‘I’m not going to be denied meals or forced onto guard duty or something of the sort?’ She moved to the front of the line forming on the far end of the field. ‘I’d have a broken nose or a black eye if I were back with the elite…’

As the archers readied their hunting blunts by lighting them on fire, she got ready to run.

‘Being Chinese really _isn’t_ as bad as Shan Yu told me…nevertheless, I am _definitely_ slitting Chi-Fu’s throat the first chance I get.’


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question for my readers: Would you prefer I continue updating on Mondays, or do you like Sunday updates better?

Zhu never wanted to make another arrow in her life.

Though being put on arrow-making duty wasn’t the least bit hard, the repetitive motions of carving and notching quickly grew boring. She was somewhat lucky, however: She only had to carve the arrow shafts. The fletchings and different arrowheads were left to be attached by some of the camp’s helpers.

What didn’t help was how sore and cut up the work left her hands. Her thumbs suffered the brunt of the injuries; they helped her control the knife and acted as guides when carving out the notches. At the end of her carving session, she’d visit the camp medic and he would slather her hands in some strange mixture of herbs and oils before carefully bandaging them so that she could still use them.

“Good thing last night was your last night of this,” Yao told her, rewrapping her left hand after inspecting the damage. “Your thumbs are going to be hurtin’ for a few days for _sure_.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied before shoving a bite of food in her mouth. “The splinters were the worst part, to be honest.”

Chien-Po let out a small, worried sigh. “Was the doctor able to get _all_ of the splinters out? It wouldn’t be good if any were left, especially if they were deep…”

She shrugged. “If anything starts to fester, then we’ll know he didn’t.” She pushed some of her food around, searching for another piece of meat.

“Could be worse,” Ling said, grinning cheekily. “I, for one, am _thankful_ your hands are all bandaged up. Means I get out of the extra round of hand-to-hand training!”

Yao rolled his eye, dismissively waving his hand. “Ya realize now that you said that, he’s going to _double-down_ when his hands are better, right?”

Zhu snorted as the color drained from Ling’s face. “He’s actually doing fairly well just from Shang’s teachings,” she said. She then let out a small hiss of pain as Yao accidentally pulled the bandage too tight; she instinctively tried to jerk her hand away.

“Sorry!” He loosened the bandage, biting his lower lip in worry. “That didn’t hurt you too bad, did it?”

“More startled me than anything,” she replied, cheeks darkening slightly. “But, as I was saying, I don’t think Ling needs help from me anymore. He can block incoming blows at full speed and can deliver some hits of his own.” She twirled some noodles around on her fork before shoving them in her mouth. “The rest Shang can teach him.”

Yao cocked his brow, looking up at her with a teasing grin as he finally finished tying the bandages. “Gee…no arrow-making duty, no teaching Ling how to fight…You’re gunna be so bored after dinner now!”

She blinked, not realizing he was joking. “No…? I still have to tend to Umut. And some nights, I need to bathe.”

Chien-Po gave her an apologetic smile. “He was making a joke,” he told her, voice gentle.

Her cheeks darkened again and she glanced down at her lunch. “Oh…” Her eyes widened and she nearly toppled forward as Yao gave her a hearty pat on the back.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he chuckled. “You’re still learnin’.”

“I’ll understand your humor event—” Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Glancing over, she saw Ping trying to find a spot to eat. When he went to take the last spot in the middle of the table, Tingfei blocked him. She didn’t hear what was said, but she knew it had to be some sort of insult -Ping’s cheeks grew dark and he turned, walking away as the other men laughed.

‘Ever since Shang gave him that bit of praise, he’s turned into quite the unwashed asshole,’ she thought, eyes narrowing. ‘He started leaving me alone, but only because his attention is on Ping now. Maybe I should pay him a little visit on his way to the latrines tonight…?’

“Zhu? You okay?”

She lightly shook her head, eyes a bit wide as she looked at the other three. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Yao and Ling cocked their brows; a bit of worry returned to Chien-Po’s face.

“ _We_ weren’t saying anything,” Chien-Po told her. “ _You_ were. But then you went quiet in the middle of your sentence and got a rather…a rather _chilling_ look in your eyes.”

She mustered an apologetic smile and a small shrug. “Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts again.”

“You’ve been doing that quite a bit lately,” Chien-Po said, the worried look still on his face. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

Nodding, she slurped up some noodles. “Everything’s been fine,” she replied after downing the bite. “I just got distracted is all.” Again, something in the corner of her vision caught her attention and, dropping her fork, she reached out just in time to grab Yao’s wrist.

He wore a defeated grin, his chopsticks hovering over her last fried egg. “Almost got it.”

Her brow rising, she let go of his hand. Then, to his surprise, she slid her bowl towards him. “You could have just _asked,_ ” she said, voice a bit dry.

“You were talkin’. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” He slid the egg into his bowl.

“Then you got to learn to be faster,” Ling snickered. “What’s Shang always telling us?” Then, with grin, he sang out, “We must be as swift as the coursing river!”

“With all the force of a great typhoon,” Yao added, his voice also singsongy.

“With all the strength of a raging fire,” Chien-Po continued, smiling as he sang.

“Mysterious as the dark side of the moon,” Zhu finished, though she found it hard to keep her voice from sounding too girlish when she sang. Grabbing her cup, she took a drink from it.

“And not a single one of us is one o’ those things,” Yao laughed. He then nudged Zhu, making her spill tea down her chin. “’Cept Zhu here. He’s kind of mysterious, don’t you guys think?” Gave her a reassuring wink. “Don’t worry. Girls _love_ mysterious guys. Once this whole war is over, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of ladies flockin’ to ya!”

Wiping her chin off, she cocked her brow at him. “While that sounds beneficial for finding marriage matches, I don’t think—” She paused, thinking over his words and the way he said them more carefully. “Oh. You were joking again.”

“Kind of,” he chuckled. “But I’m serious ‘bout the girls liking mysterious guys. You’d be mister tall, dark, and handsome to them.”

“How am I dark? My skin is only a few shades darker than yours.”

Yao stared at her for a minute before closing his eye and letting out a small sigh. He patted her shoulder. “You’ve got a _long_ way to go, kid.”

 

* * *

 

Zhu _loathed_ the exercise they were doing for that day’s training. They were to march with a pole slung over their shoulders, a bag of grain attached at each end. This in of itself was alright -but it was the fact that they were marching _uphill_ with no rest breaks that she hated. It wasn’t their first time doing this march and she was positive it wouldn’t be their last.

But she _wished_ it was their last.

The other recruits shared her sentiment. There was a lot of grumbling and cursing as they did their best to keep up the marching pace. It was no easy feat, though, and seeing Chi-Fu riding ahead of them on his gelding only served to make them more irritable.

Shang, on the other hand, was among their numbers, also carrying a weighted pole. He wasn’t nearly as out of breath as they were, but he did try his best to keep them motivated, though it was of little use.

‘ _This_ is why I have Umut,’ Zhu thought, her teeth clenched as she glared at the path ahead. Her legs burned and her shoulders ached. ‘ _She_ carries me so I don’t have to march like this. Why march anyway? It’s slow and wastes energy that could be saved for fighting. No wonder Shan Yu’s crossing China so easily!’

She almost laughed at the thought.

Glancing over her shoulder, she searched for Yao, Chien-Po, and Ping. Ling, she knew, was one of the ones at the forefront of the group; the first time they had undergone this march, he had proved himself to be one of the best suited for it. He could keep up the pace for _hours_.

‘He’s so damned lanky, one of his strides is the same as three of ours,’ she thought.

Yao and Chien-Po, however, were not as lucky. Yao’s short, stocky physique made it so he had to go at double the pace of everyone else in order to keep up. Chien-Po could keep up and had no trouble with the weighted poles, but Zhu had come to learn that his vision wasn’t the best and, because of it, he had a hard time seeing the ground a few yards ahead of him. On a narrow, cliffside path, that could be dangerous.

But Ping was the worst off. Zhu saw him at the very back of the group, struggling to keep up. His face was bright red and he was covered with sweat. He looked ready to pass out at any minute.

Moving herself off to the side, near the rock wall, she stopped marching. She pretended there was a rock in her shoe, pulling it off and tapping it a few times. By the time she put it back on, the majority of the recruits had passed her. Shouldering her pole once more, she fell back into the group.

Just in time, too. As they rounded a corner, Ping’s legs gave out. He was able to stumble forward a few more paces before collapsing onto the ground.

Zhu’s eyes widened and, dropping her pole again, she knelt beside him. She lifted him up somewhat, getting his face away from the earth so he wouldn’t choke on the dust. “Just breathe,” she told him when he tried to sit up on his own.

A shadow fell over them and she looked up, seeing Shang approaching. He said nothing as he knelt down and grabbed Ping’s pole, but the look on his face spoke for him: He was losing faith that Ping would be able to make it through training. Ping glanced up at him, his face filled with guilt and disappointment.

As Shang marched off, Zhu narrowed her eyes. Wordlessly, she grabbed her pole and, turning, balanced it on the back of her neck. She reached behind her, grabbing Ping’s arms and pulling him onto her back. Then, hooking her arms under his legs, she started to stand up.

“Hold on,” she instructed, starting to sprint.

“Wh-what are you doing!?” Ping wheezed, eyes wide.

She glanced back at him. “Helping you.” She was surprised by how light he was -not that it would make things easier. He was still a great deal heavier than the weighted pole; it would be a challenge for her to reach the end of the course with him on her back.

Good thing she liked challenges.

“But _why_? I’ll just slow you down!”

“Isn’t this the sort of thing friends do?”

She knew a small smile had come to Ping’s lips. “…Yeah, it is,” he said after a minute. “But you’re going to wear yourself out. Then Shang will be mad at _both_ of us.”

Shrugging, she quickened her pace just slightly to in order to catch up to the others. “Let him be mad. I’m not going to leave you behind.” Her brow rose slightly as Ping leaned forward, getting a better hold on her shoulders.

Something didn’t _feel_ quite right about his chest. It stuck out too far for someone as scrawny as him.

She then started remembering other odd things she had noticed about Ping. ‘His voice gets higher the longer he talks and his jaw is much softer than most of the other men. He prefers bathing by himself…and his walk isn’t quite _right_ for a man’s…’ Her eyes narrowing somewhat, she stole a glance over her shoulder at him. ‘Is Ping actually a _woman_?’  

Knowing better than question things right now, she shoved the thought aside in favor of catching up to the other recruits.

‘I’ll deal with it later,’ she thought. ‘It’s going to take some planning, anyway -I don’t want to terrify ‘him’.’

It took her a few minutes, but she soon caught up with the back of the group. She ignored the odd looks sent her way, focusing her eyes again on the path ahead.

Normally, when they reached the top of the hill, Shang would allow them to rest for a few minutes. That day, however, he had them turn right around and start marching back towards camp. Zhu wondered if it was out of irritation with Ping or if he had planned on pushing them from the start.

 

By the time they returned to camp, almost everyone was red-faced, panting, and absolutely soaked with sweat. Halfway down the hill, Ping had assured Zhu that he was able to start marching once again. She was thankful for that; her entire body burned from the exertion.

What didn’t help was that, after lunch, they had bo staff training. They had been grouped into pairs for sparring. Much to her dismay, she had been paired up with Tingfei.

‘At least this gives me a chance to hit him without repercussions,’ she thought, rolling her head to pop her neck.

It seemed Tingfei was thinking along the same lines. As she approached, he wore a wicked grin. “Ready to fight, scaredy-pants?” he asked, his hands lazily resting atop one end of his staff. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just surrendered right now and told Shang you lost.”

She cocked her brow, taking on a defensive position with her staff. “Keep talking to yourself like that and people will think you’re a lunatic.” She raised her staff, blocking the blow that Tingfei haphazardly threw at her.

Blow after blow was exchanged. Zhu found herself mostly defending, but she expected that. The last few weeks had shown her that Tingfei was an emotional fighter. The more worked up he got, the sloppier his fighting became.

Block. Block. Parry-repost-block.

“I was expecting a good skirmish,” she taunted. “My dead mother puts up more of a fight than you.”

“Says the one too cowardly to strike!” he growled, whirling around with his staff.

Block-block-parry-kick-block. Parry-parry-dodge-parry-repost. Block-block-miss.

Zhu let out a small curse as she hit the ground; above her, Tingfei wore a triumphant smirk, the end of his staff inches from her throat. He had managed to trick her with a feint.

“One-zero,” he said, backing off.

Her eyes narrowed as she stood up. Slowly, she once again took on a defensive stance.

Tingfei lunged forward. Block-block-parry-parry-dodge-block. Parry-parry-strike. Zhu hooked her staff behind his knee. With a sharp tug, she flipped Tingfei’s leg out from under him.

“One-one,” she told him, her staff at his throat.

Nearby, Yao and Chien-Po stopped their sparring, too distracted by Zhu and Tingfei. They weren’t the only ones; a couple of other groups stopped as well. They watched as Zhu and Tingfei seemed to dance around the other, their staffs blurs as they moved. The action only stopped when the other claimed a victory.

For many minutes, it looked like Zhu was going to win. She was lighter on her feet than Tingfei and she had managed three wins in a row. But then, Tingfei managed to make a comeback. He would use his broader size to keep her from getting the mobility needed to block or strike by moving in close to her.

Now tied and both breathing heavily, Zhu and Tingfei glared at one another. Their shoulders heaving from the effort it took to breathe, both held their staff at waist level as they walked in a slow circle.

In an instant, they were exchanging blows again.

Chien-Po and Yao grinned; Zhu had the upper hand. With each of her strikes, she forced Tingfei backwards. When he struck, she refused to budge as she blocked. They watched as she stepped forward, sliding her staff alongside Tingfei’s neck to bring him down and claim victory—

There was a deep, dull thud and Zhu fell to her knees, bent over and clutching the left side of her chest. He had struck her barely-healed ribs -and he had struck them _hard_. The air was forced from her lungs and was, instead, replaced by pain. Every little bit of air she managed to suck in sent an almost unbearable pain coursing through her body.

Tingfei smirked down at her, not noticing that she was struggling to breathe.

“I win,” he sneered, tossing his staff down beside her. He frowned when she didn’t reply. “What, no sarcastic reply? Did I beat you _that_ bad?” He let out a laugh, moving towards her.

Raising his leg, he made to kick her. Though she could barely breathe and her chest burned with pain, Zhu was able to fight past both thanks to her Hunnic training. Catching his leg as it came towards her, she used her other hand to reach up and grab his shirt. She pulled him down to her level.

Another dull thud echoed out as she slammed her forehead against his face. Tingfei let out a howl of pain, his hands rising to cover his face as Zhu threw him away from her.

She doubled over once more, fingers digging into the earth in pain. Her eyes and teeth were clenched shut in pain. She didn’t care that tears were pouring from her eyes. She didn’t care if anyone saw her in such a moment of weakness. Her entire being _hurt_ and her quick, sharp gasps for air didn’t help that pain.

She became aware of a new sensation: Someone’s hands on her shoulders. Whoever it was gentle as they forced her to sit up straight. She could hear them talking, but didn’t know what they were saying. Instead of focusing on the pain, she tried her best to focus on the voice.

“Breathe, Zhu,” they were saying. “Deeper breaths. Gasping will only make it worse. Just breathe.”

Zhu took a shaky, but slightly deeper, breath. The pain lessened only a little bit, but as she worked at breathing slower and deeper, it started to ease up.

“There we go,” the voice said. It sounded like Shang. “Do you think you can speak?”

She nodded, the movement jerky and uneven. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“N-no. He—he bruised th-them is all, s-sir.” Finally opening her eyes, she blinked against the bright sunlight. It was, indeed, Shang who was talking to her. On either side of her stood Yao and Chien-Po, both looking like worried hens. “I’ll be—I’ll be fine.”

His brows knitted themselves together; it was obvious he didn’t believe her. “Are you sure? If they’re broken, then you need to be-”

“They’re just bruised,” she assured him. Closing her eyes again, she took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled it through her nose. “I don’t need a doctor.”

He nodded slowly, though he still wasn’t entirely convinced. “If you say so,” he told her, his voice betraying his doubt. “If you start to feel _any_ worse, though-”

“I’ll see the doctor then, sir,” she replied, wincing as she made to stand. Chien-Po quickly reached down, slowly helping her onto her feet.

“Good. I don’t want you pushing yourself for the next few days, either.” He turned, starting to walk away, but he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “ _Especially_ if it means carrying Ping around.”

Her cheeks grew a bit dark.

“Sir? What about Tingfei?” Yao questioned, using his head to motion at the other soldier. He was still curled up in a ball, his hands and face covered with blood.

Zhu had broken his nose.

Shang looked at him for a moment before shrugging. “I think Zhu was able to deliver a fair enough punishment, don’t you?” Without another word, he walked off.

Sighing, Yao turned to Zhu. “You really okay, Zhu?” he asked, a bit of worry in his voice. “We saw how hard Tingfei hit you -there’s no shame in goin’ to the doctor if ya have to.”

“I promise, I’m fine,” she sighed. She winced, raising a hand to her ribs. “My ribs had only _just_ healed from the last injury I got.”

That made Chien-Po frown. “That isn’t good. Freshly healed bones are more likely to break. Perhaps it would be best to see the doctor? Just to make sure?”

“Nothing’s broken. You can feel for yourself -every rib is where it should be.” She wasn’t used to being fretted over; was this normal? Did people really worry that much about their friends? “At most, he managed to fracture one. It’s nothing I haven’t gone through before.” She managed a small smile. “Ex-mercenary, remember?”

Chien-Po shook his head with a sigh. “You are a strange one,” he said. Then, setting his hand on her shoulder, he started to lead her off. “Come. Let’s at least get some pain-relieving tea in you…”

 

~*~

 

It was near midnight. Moo-Shung was quiet, but not silent. As she walked past the tents, Zhu could hear the recruits quietly talking with one another. Some still had their lanterns lit, allowing her to see their silhouettes. Walking by one tent, she could see the outlines of Yao and Ling as they got ready for bed. Her brow rose; she didn’t expect them to be the sorts to brush their hair before sleeping.

Continuing on, she made her way towards the lake. Two days ago, most of the camp had bathed and, the previous night, Chi-Fu and Shang had bathed. Neither night, Ping bathed -which was usual. Ping would bathe two nights after the rest of the recruits; she would bathe on the fourth night.

But not this time.

As she walked down the dirt path, she could hear an occasional splash and Ping’s voice. But something wasn’t quite right: There was a second voice, this one _clearly_ male.

‘I never see anyone else coming down here on Ping’s night,’ she thought, her brows scrunching together. She paused in her steps; as she listened closer, she recognized the second voice. It was the same voice she had heard whispering to Ping their second day of training. ‘Does…does he - _she_ \- have a demon…?’ Her eyes widened at the thought, but she quickly shut them and shook her head. ‘No. Ping show absolutely no signs of having made a pact with a demon.’

Calming herself with a few deep breaths that made her chest ache, she pressed forward. Soon enough, she could see Ping washing himself-herself? Themselves?- in the lake. She swallowed hard, praying to whoever would listen that she was right about this.

_‘Of course you’re right,’_ a voice in the back of her mind said. She neither recognized the voice nor liked the sound of it. ‘ _You always notice the small details. Why else would Shan Yu have sent you here? You’re one of his_ best _, after all.’_

She shuddered, doing her best to silence the voice as she stepped onto the shore.

“Nice night for a bath,” she said, her voice _just_ loud enough for the other recruit to hear her.

Ping let out a yelp and, ducking down into the water, spun around to face her. “Z-Zhu! What—What are _you_ doing out here?” A nervous laugh left her mouth; her reaction only helped to further prove to Zhu that she was right. “Didn’t you, ah, already bathe with uh—with the others?”

She shook her head, starting to undress. “No. I don’t bathe around them.”

Glancing away, Ping started to subtly swim towards a large rock sticking out of the water. “O-Oh?”

Zhu glanced over at Ping. “I usually bathe alone for the same reason as _you_.”

At that, Ping stopped, her brows furrowing as she hid behind the rock. “…And what—what reason would _that_ be?” she asked, voice still nervous but also curious.

Dropping her pants, Zhu started to wade into the water. “We’re both women.” A soft hiss left her mouth as the cool water splashed against the enormous bruise on her side. After a few seconds passed, the coolness felt good and helped ease away the pain.

Ping poked her head out from behind the rock, her eyes wide. “What?! Why in the world would you think I’m a girl!?” Her cheeks suddenly turned dark red; Zhu was only waist deep in the water.

At this distance, she failed to see anything that looked feminine about her. Instead, she saw scarred skin stretched tight over lean muscles and the large bruise on the left side of her ribs. Her chest did have two, slight bulges that _could_ have been breasts, but after seeing Shang shirtless so often, she knew they could have just been well-defined chest muscles.

Zhu help up her hand, staying where she was as she started to list off the ways. “You don’t have the correct walk. Your jaw is too soft. Your voice goes from deep to light. You bathe by yourself, avoiding the men. _And_ I felt your breasts this morning when I was carrying you.” She started to wash herself.

Ping’s brows furrowed. “…You really noticed all of _that_?” Her voice betrayed the disappointment she felt.

“I did, yes, but no one else has.” She waded deeper into the water. Closing her eyes, she dropped below the surface, letting her hair get soaked. She let out a small gasp as she surfaced. “You can come out now.”

Biting her lower lip, Ping hesitantly came out from behind the rock. “Are—are you _sure_ no one else knows?”

She cocked her brow as she glanced at her. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do-”

“If anyone else knew, you’d be dead.”

She shrank back, her cheeks growing red once more. “Right. Forgot about that part…” She peeked over at Zhu again; now that she was closer, she could see more of her scars. There was a particularly nasty one on her hip -it looked like her flesh had been gouged out. “You weren’t lying about being a mercenary,” she unconsciously murmured.

Blinking, Zhu followed Ping’s gaze to the scar. “No, I wasn’t. But this-” she lightly tapped the scar, “-isn’t from any fight. This was from a spider.”

“A spider?” She allowed herself to come even closer to get a better look. “I’ve never seen a spider bite like this, though.”

Surprisingly, Zhu let out a genuine laugh. “Be glad for that. Before Ruga noticed the bite, I had a raging fever and couldn’t stop shaking.”

Ping cocked her head. “Who’s Ruga?”

It was Zhu’s turn to blush. “Oh…he’s—he’s one of my uncles. More like my father’s friends, but he and his brother, Roua, were the nicest to me…” She fell silent, memories of how Roua and Ruga had done their best to care for her while the spider’s poison ravage her body. When Ruga realized the root of the problem, he had carved out the bite in hopes of ceasing the poison. It was the last time either of them had shown her such blatant affection; after she had healed, they grew cold towards her once more.

“Zhu? Is everything alright?”

Coming out of her thoughts, she shook her head. “Fine -everything’s fine. I was just—just remembering how the scar came to be.” She pushed her hair out of her face and sighed. “Who were you talking to earlier?”

Ping froze. “I—uh—I, er, wasn’t talking to anyone! I was just talking to myself!” She then deepened her voice. “Practicing my man voice, you know!”

Zhu’s brow rose; it was clear she wasn’t convinced. “Who I heard _wasn’t_ your ‘man voice’. It was very clearly _a_ man.” She started to scrub at her arms. “If you’re meeting someone, that’s fine.”

“I’m not meeting anyone,” Ping replied, her voice almost too fast to be believable. “I just…they’re ah…” She let out a heavy, defeated sigh as she rubbed the side of her neck. “There’s really no point in hiding it from you, is there?”

Her brows furrowed and she looked at Ping in confusion. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s perfectly fine.”

She let out a halfhearted laugh. “If you figured out I’m a girl, you’d figure this out soon enough,” she said. She then shot a bit of a glare towards the shore. “Especially since he’s so easily _excitable_.”

Zhu’s eyes narrowed as they both heard someone grumbling in the grass at Ping’s comment. She didn’t remember seeing anyone getting out of the water…Did the person crawl ashore and _that’s_ how they avoided being seen?

“Come on, Mushu,” Ping gently called. “You can come out.”

“‘Mushu’?” she murmured. There was no one at the camp named Mushu…

“You think I’m crazy? I’m not comin’ out! It’s bad enough this wannabe-assassin knows you’re a girl now! If she sees me, she might try to steal me from you!”

Zhu frowned, offended by his remark. “I _am_ an assassin.”

“See? _She’s_ the crazy one!”

Ping rolled her eyes. “Mushu. You’ve already given yourself away by talking. Just come out.”

The owner of the voice grumbled. Zhu watched as the grass started to rustle as whoever it was trudged towards the shore. She suddenly tensed up, her eyes wide in horror: It wasn’t a human that stepped out into the open, but a long, strange looking lizard.

Blood red and black eyes filled her vision. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a falcon -but was it real? It couldn’t be. It had to be in her mind.

“Zhu?” Ping stared at her, worried. Zhu hadn’t moved or stopped staring at the lizard for many minutes now. “Zhu, is everything alright?”

Suddenly regaining the use of her body, Zhu threw herself back behind the rock and crouched low in the water. She hoped it was enough to hide her from the lizard’s sight.  Looking at Ping, she hissed, “Why do you have a _demon_?!”

“Demon!? _Demon_?! Do I _look_ like a demon to you?!” Mushu snapped, making Zhu flinch. “I’ll have _you_ know I’m one of the _great_ protectors of the Fa family!”

Zhu clenched her eyes shut and she unconsciously hugged herself. It was becoming hard to breathe and her hands felt oddly numb -whether it was Mushu’s doing or her own body acting against her, she didn’t know.

_‘The world is full of demons and spirits and_ guardians _. If you come across any of these, give them the respect they deserve.’_

Shan Yu’s words echoed through her mind; hadn’t that just been a dream? Her eyes still clenched shut, she forced herself to start breathing more evenly. After a few minutes, she dared to poke her head out from behind the rock. Mushu was pacing along the shore, his ears folded over his eyes.

He certainly didn’t _seem_ to be a demon…

She looked over at Ping, finding the other woman watching her with worry. “Do you—do you promise he’s a guardian?” she questioned, voice quiet for fear of further upsetting Mushu.

Despite the look of concern she wore, Ping nodded. “Yes. He was sent by my ancestors to help me get through this safely.” The only other time she had seen Zhu look so scared was the night she had the nightmare. “You don’t have to hide from him. He has his eyes covered.”

Biting her lower lip, Zhu hesitantly came out from behind the rock. “Your ancestors sent a _lizard_ to help you?”

“DRAGON!” Mushu snapped. “ _Dra_ - _gon!_ I may be small, but don’t let that fool you! I can pack a wallop!”

Zhu flinched, covering her head. “Sorry! I swear I meant no offense!”

Ping set her hand on Zhu’s shoulder, accidentally making her jump again. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to be scared of him, I promise. He’s fairly harmless.”

“Unless you try to hurt my girl here -then I’m flambéing someone’s hiney!” He slammed his fist into his open palm. “Or I’ll be bitin’ someone’s ankles! Mark my words, you hurt my girl and there _will_ be retribution!”

Zhu couldn’t help but chuckle at that comment, though she still felt on edge. “I have no plans of hurting her,” she assured him.

“Good. Because truthfully, I’ve seen the way you fight.” He pointed in her general direction. “ _You_ would be a challenge for _me_. With you on our side, Shan Yu doesn’t stand a chance of beating us.”

She felt her stomach sink and a bit of color faded from her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mushu beat her to it.

“ _Heeeeeey!_ ” he said, grinning broadly. “You were training that bamboo-stalk -what’s his name? Ting?-”

“Ling.”

“Yeah, that guy! You were trainin’ him for a while and he got better real quick. What say you to helpin’ Mulan here to get better with her training, hm?”

She blinked, taken aback by his request. “You…want _me_ to train Ping?” she repeated.

“Makes sense, don’t it?” Still wearing his grin, he lazily scratched the top of his chest. “If you help Mulan here, Shang will stop being so disappointed in her and she’ll start earning honor for her family. Plus, since you’re both girls, you won’t have to worry about hittin’ each other in the man-parts!”

Ping shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. You don’t have to do anything, especially since you’re _injured_.” As she spoke the last word, she shot a glare at Mushu. “I couldn’t ask that of you anyway.”

“ _You_ don’t need to ask her anything. I already did the askin’!” Mushu declared.

Zhu leaned forward somewhat, shielding her mouth on the shore-side of her face. “Is he always like this?” she whispered.

An exasperated smile came to Ping’s lips. “ _Sadly._ ”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter is so short, I felt it'd be kind of mean to make you guys wait two weeks just to read a page and a half of words :p So, here's for a double-upload night!

“She will not complete her mission.”

“Yes, she will.”

“I have shown you proof of her growing weakness. Why do you continue to lie to yourself with these false hopes?”

Shan Yu’s lip curled back in a snarl. “The _‘proof’_ you have shown me could just as easily been a lie conjured by you,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Shan Zhu will accomplish the task given to her, whether you believe in her or not.”

From his spot on the cliff, he stared down at the camp his made had made for the night. There were at least a dozen fires burning. Even from where he stood, nearly two hundred feet above, he could smell the roasting deer and pig meat.

Something shifted behind him. “I have shown you _honest_ proof of her growing failure.”

“She has never failed me before. Why would she fail now?” Turning, he walked towards a black cloud; with a wave of his hand, he parted it and walked through.

The cloud closed in on itself, trailing after him. “You would have done better to send Mundzuc. _He_ would have finished the job by now.”

“Mundzuc is too careless for such a task.”

“A task that does _not_ need finesse to complete.” The cloud swiftly moved before him and grew larger, looming over him threateningly. “An assassination such as this does _not_ require observation and patience. Why have you convinced yourself otherwise?”

“I have my reasons, _demon_.” Once more, he swept his arm through the cloud and passed through it. “Reasons I _don’t_ need to share with you.”

The cloud remained in place, watching as Shan Yu started back down the mountain trail. Then, slowly, it started to follow him. “She _will_ betray you.”

“She will do _no_ such thing.”

“Already, she grows fond of the Chinese soldiers.”

“She merely pretends as an act to blend in.”

“You have not seen her mind as I have. She is questioning her life under your command and she—” A choking sound came from the cloud as Shan Yu spun around and snatched its front-most tendril in a vice-like grip.

“I told you to _never_ peer into my niece’s mind!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “I have told you time and time again to _stay away_ from her!”

“With how vehemently you defend her, one would almost think you _wanted_ her to fail,” the demon hissed, its voice choked.

Shan Yu gripped it even tighter. “I want no such thing,” he growled. “I want her to succeed and she _will_ succeed. But it will _not_ be because of your influence. I will not have you infecting her as you have infected me! But what do you do?! You go against my orders! I should _kill_ you for such disrespect!”

The cloud seemed to turn into liquid, spilling out of his hand and forming a puddle on the ground. Rising from the center, it grew into a humanoid shape that same height as him, but much thinner. Then, reaching out, it grabbed his jaw in an even stronger grip.

A pair of blood-red and yellow eyes appeared amidst the inky blackness, their gaze nearly petrifying Shan Yu. “If you were to kill me, that would mean the end of _you_ as well,” it reminded him, its voice calm and cool. “May I remind you that, without me, you are nothing but a sickly, weak old man. You _need_ me, Shan Yu. Just as _I_ need _you_.”

Shan Yu remained silent, save for a quiet growl under his breath.

“If you so badly wish her to succeed, I _can_ aide her,” the demon continued, its voice softer now. It let go of Shan Yu and slowly started to circle him like a predator stalking its next meal. “It would not involve a pact such as the one that bonds us.”

He narrowed his eyes, following the demon’s movements. “Then what _does_ it involve?”

“Giving her a taste of power. Of _your_ power.” The demon’s voice was as soft and as alluring as silk. It sent a shiver down Shan Yu’s spine.

“…You can do that?” he questioned, his voice just the slightest bit uncertain.

“Of course. It will cost _you_ a price, however, as it will be, quite literally, _your_ power I let her taste. Never more than a few minutes at a time, though. I wouldn’t want to kill you from the shock to your body.”

He was truly silent this time. Closing his eyes, he thought over the demon’s proposal. The vast majority of his mind _knew_ she would never betray him. Why should she? He raised her; he _trained_ her.

Most importantly, they were each other’s only _family_.

But there had been times when she had refused his orders. Certain kills she wouldn’t do. People she wouldn’t hurt -people who most certainly would have hurt _her_ given the chance.

“Do it,” he finally said, “but do _not_ give her enough to make her addicted. I don’t want her to suffer through the live I now live.”

“As you wish.”

Shan Yu watched as the darkness curled in on itself. It took on the shape and coloration of a falcon; it flew off, climbing high into the sky. He watched it for a moment longer before turning and beginning the walk back to camp.

“I am sorry, Shan Zhu,” he murmured, “but if anything Hayabusa has told me _is_ true, then you need a reminder of where you _truly_ belong.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

“No, no, _no_ -this elbow needs to either be level with your jaw or slightly higher. And _this_ arm needs to stay rigid.”

“I’m trying, but this stance is really difficult to keep.”

Slightly lifting Mulan’s draw arm so that her elbow was more in line with her jaw, Zhu chuckled. “It will be for a while,” she told her, “but that is only because I’m having you _hold_ it. Normally, you wouldn’t be holding it like this for so long.”

Frowning, she glanced over at Zhu. “And I’m holding it… _why_?”

“I need to fix your posture. It’s all _wrong_.” Moving to her other side, she then raised her bow arm just a bit. She then gently pushed on the center of Mulan’s back, making her stand straighter. “Later on, when you’ve got the basics down, your posture won’t matter _as_ much, but when you’re first learning, there are a _lot_ of mistakes you could make that end up with you getting injured.”

Mulan let out a small sigh; her the space between her shoulders was beginning to burn. “I believe it. It seems like _everything_ we’ve been learning can end up with someone getting injured.”

“Combat always leads to injury.” She stepped back, assessing Mulan’s current posture. “Two things separate the injured from the uninjured: Speed and skill. Go ahead and relax.”

She let out a sigh of relief as she slouched forward. “Right now, I have neither.”

“Not true. You’re gaining both, but the problem is you’re still too scared to _use_ them.”

Her brows furrowing, she turned and looked at Zhu. “What?”

“You lack confidence.” Drawing a single arrow from the quiver on her hip, she handed it to Mulan. “When you aim, don’t look at the tip of the arrow. Look _directly_ at your target. Keep your breathing slow; it can affect your aim.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Fast, heavy breathing moves your entire torso, which, in turn, moves your arms. Now show me what you’ve learned so far.”

Swallowing hard, Mulan stared at her target -a tree in the distance- for a few seconds. Then, adjusting her posture, she nocked the arrow and lifted the bow. Her arm shook slightly, but she did her best to keep it still as she drew back the string. She released it.

The arrow flew through the air only to get lost somewhere in the canopy of branches.

She smiled guiltily as she looked over at Zhu. “At least I hit it…?” she offered.

Zhu’s brow rose; it was clear she wasn’t impressed. “ _No_ , you didn’t.” Her voice was dry and had a hint of rebuke to it. “But, I now know what your biggest problem is: We need to strengthen your upper torso muscles.”

“I suppose that will make it easier for me to draw the bow…?” She handed the bow to Zhu when she reached for it. “Because right now, it’s _hard_.”

_Now_ a bit of praise came to her face. “Exactly.” Drawing an arrow, she had it nocked and aimed in only a few seconds. Before Mulan could even blink, the arrow was flying through the air.

There was a deep, hollow thud as it sank into the tree. A few seconds later and the arrow had been split in half by a second arrow.

Mulan’s jaw fell slack, her eyes wide. “How did you _do_ that?!” she gawked.

Zhu shrugged. “I aim for the middle.”

Giving her a dry look, she stuck her tongue out at her. “Next, you’ll be showing me how you can use a sword to split another person’s sword in half just by aiming for the middle…”

She stared at her, confused. “…No? That’s impossible. You can _shatter_ a sword with a hard enough and well-placed strike, but I’m not nearly—Oh. Joking.”

Mulan cocked her brow as they started walking back to camp. “You…really aren’t good at recognizing humor, are you?”

Zhu’s cheeks darkened somewhat and she glanced away, frowning. “It’s different from the humor I’m used to.”

“Oh? How so?” she asked. She had always thought humor was a relatively universal thing.

She remained silent for a few minutes, trying to come up with a description. “The humor here is…is more _innocent_ ,” she finally said.

“Really? You must be hearing some different jokes than me, because the ones I’ve been hearing around camp are quite filthy.”

“Filthy, yes, but it’s still harmless compared to what I’m used to.”

“Alright then.” Mulan turned, starting to walk backwards. She wore a playful, yet challenging, grin “Tell me one of the jokes you grew up hearing. I’ll let you know if it’s actually as morbid as you say it is.”

Again, she was silent for a bit; she knew some _horrible_ jokes thanks to Edeco and Bleda. But they were far too dark for Mulan to hear -she didn’t want to _scar_ her. After many minutes of deliberation, she finally remembered one that may not have been _too_ crude.

“I’ve always heard the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she started. “I find going through the ribcage _much_ quicker,” she finished, making a grab-and-pull motion with her hand.

Mulan cringed, an almost frightened look coming to her face. “That—that _is_ disturbing…”

“I _told_ you-” She suddenly went quiet, her eyes narrowing.

Frowning, Mulan turned around only to see Tingfei and some of his friends walking towards them. His nose was still swollen and there were dark, bruised circles under his eyes. Seeing the other two recruits, he grinned arrogantly.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Moo-Shung’s biggest _losers_ ,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. He had become even cockier since his and Zhu’s duel, despite having gotten a broken nose from her.

Zhu wished she had struck his jaw and broke _that_ instead.

“I must have hit him too hard -he’s insulting himself again,” she replied, voice cool and calm. Despite her apparent tranquility, her knuckles were white as she gripped the bow. She had come to hate Tingfei more than she hated Mundzuc.

An _extremely_ difficult feat to accomplish.

Tingfei narrowed his eyes, ignoring her comment. Spotting the bow, he snickered. “Looks like Zhu here is trying to make Ping competent at _something_!” He leaned back, now crossing his arms over his chest. “How’s that working out? Not well, I take it, since the quiver’s still full.”

His friends started laughing.

“So says the man who can’t even hit the broadside of a _mountain_ , let alone his target!” Mulan snapped. Zhu cocked her brow, impressed by her boldness.

Tingfei’s laughter suddenly ceased, his cheeks turning bright red; while he could aim a cannon well, he was rubbish at archery. “Big words from a little man who can’t even keep up during _marching_ practice.” Making his voice mockingly sweet, he gave Mulan a horribly fake look of pity. “Poor wittle thing had to be carried _all_ the way back to camp so his wittle feetsies wouldn’t hurt!”

He watched as Zhu stepped forward, partially shielding Mulan. “Keep talking and we’ll see just how far _you_ can march without any feet,” she coldly threatened. The look on her face was a dangerous one; it sent a shiver down his spine.

But he didn’t let his fear show; he knew she could do nothing unless she wanted to end up in prison. Instead, he snorted and looked back at his friends. “Looks like Zhu here isn’t too happy with us telling the truth about his _boyfriend_ ,” he sneered.

At that, his friends burst out laughing, a few of them even doubling over.

Mulan bit her lower lip. Glancing down, she could see that Zhu was starting to reach for an arrow. She grabbed her arm, giving her a worried look. “They’re not worth it,” she quietly told her. “They’re just a group of idiots, plain and simple.”

“You know, Zhu, you started out as a bit of a lone wolf,” Tingfei continued to taunt. He _wanted_ her to try something. He wanted revenge for his broken nose -her bruised ribs weren’t _nearly_ enough. “So why the sudden interest in Ping, huh? He give you some good head or something? Those lips of his certainly look like they’d be good for the job.”

Mulan’s brow rose in confusion; she wasn’t sure what ‘good head’ meant and she wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to know. Zhu, however, knew _exactly_ what it meant. Without looking, she handed the bow to Mulan before walking towards Tingfei.

He laughed, watching her with a false sense of security. She wouldn’t _dare_ try anything, especially when he had four other men to help back him up. She only had worthless Ping.

“You can’t do anything!” he cackled. “Not unless you want to end up-”

Reaching out, Zhu snatched his face in her hand. She pulled him towards her, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks and making his lips form an exaggerated pout. Mulan leaned forward in a vain attempt to hear what Zhu started saying.

Whatever it was had to have been terrifying: The color slowly drained from Tingfei’s face and terror filled his eyes. Behind him, his friends were staring at Zhu in horror.

What Mulan and Zhu couldn’t see was how Zhu’s eyes had, for just a few brief seconds, turned black and gold.

Finally, she gave Tingfei a shove, letting her nails claw his skin as he fell out of her grip. As he scrambled to his feet, his friends started to scurry away like frightened rats.

“They won’t be bothering us anymore,” Zhu said, eyes narrowing as she watched the men flee. She was positive one of them had wetted himself.

“Wh—what did you say to him?” Mulan dared to ask.

She was silent for a moment. While threatening Tingfei, she had felt an odd rush of adrenaline. She had felt fierce and unafraid. “Something that would have made a Hun proud.”

 

* * *

 

 

Training with bruised ribs was hard.

Training in a _storm_ with bruised ribs was even harder.

Training in a storm with bruised ribs while jumping from post to post was almost impossible.

Zhu’s ribs burned as she did her best to keep running. On either side of her was a ten-foot fall into the lake below. Thanks to the storm, the waters of the lake were churning violently. They slammed against the nearby cliff face with such force, they were creating foam.

She wasn’t sure she’d make it back to shore alive if she fell in.

And that was _exactly_ why Shang was having them train in such foul weather. The fear of falling in and dying was the perfect incentive to _not_ fall in.

But it was difficult. The tops of the posts were slick and the wind was blowing hard. Lightning would occasional split the sky, momentarily blinding her.

‘You can do this,’ she told herself after nearly losing her footing. ‘You _can_ do this. You survived training under Edeco and under Mundzuc. This—this should be as easy as mounting a horse!’

She leapt to the next post, cursing in pain. Only three posts remained between her and wide, solid ground. ‘I can do this,’ she thought, her brows furrowing.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she could see Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po also doing their best to not fall in. Chien-Po was struggling the most; his inability to swim made him terrified of falling in, but his girth made it all too easy for the wind to throw him off balance. Yao’s short legs made the wide gap a challenge for him; more than once, he found himself clinging to the edge of a post and having to scramble back to his feet. Ling seemed to be doing the best; being tall and lanky made it hard for the wind to buffet him but easy for him to hop over the gaps.

Zhu had come to notice something, though: Every time lightning flashed and thunder boomed, Yao and Chien-Po would call out to Ling. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it happened after _every_ strike.

‘Why are they doing that?’ she thought, jumping once more. ‘It doesn’t—’

A cry left her mouth. Her foot had slipped off the slick post, sending her tumbling towards the churning waves. Before she could do anything, she hit the water. The wind was knocked out of her; it felt like she had hit a rock.

It took all her willpower to not suck in a breath.

She tried to swim for the surface, but which way was up? Billions of bubbles obscured her vision. Her lungs were quickly beginning to burn and her head started to pound. She wasn’t a weak swimmer by any means, but the lake was throwing her back and forth, further disorientating her.

Her head felt like it was going to explode. Everything around her started growing dim. She tried her hardest to keep swimming, to keep trying to find the surface—

A strong arm wrapped around her waist. A few seconds later, she was pulled to the surface where she gasped for air. She tried to gulp it in, but only succeeded in inhaling a bit of water. Coughing, she clenched her eyes shut; her head felt nauseatingly light.

When she opened her eyes, her vision swirled. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to see who had been, quite frankly, an absolutely _idiot_ and jumped in after her only to feel another wave of panic hit her.

“Chien-Po!?” she wheezed. “What’re you doing?! You can’t swim!”

“No,” he replied, his face scrunched up in concentration, “but I _am_ very good at floating.”

Her body aching too much for her to care, Zhu groaned.

Together, the two of them slowly made their way to shore. Chien-Po was right -he _was_ good at floating, but he was also good at being knocked around by the waves. Zhu clung onto his tunic, instructing him on what he should be doing with his arms while she tried to keep them going in a straight line.

Their combined strength kept them away from the cliffside, though they were quickly tiring as they fought the waves. Zhu’s torso was aflame with pain, but she did her best to ignore it -even if it meant possibly injuring herself. Beside her, Chien-Po was red-faced and panting; he wasn’t used to such exertion. But he continued on.

And it was because of him they finally reached shore. Being a good head-and-a-half taller than her, his feet were able to reach the ground first. Though wading was just as difficult thanks to the waves, he hoisted Zhu up and walked them to shore.

Collapsing onto the ground, neither cared that they were now covered in mud. They laid on their backs, panting heavily with their eyes shut. They could hear the slapping of mud as people ran towards them, but they didn’t care.

They just wanted to _breathe_.

“Chien-Po! Zhu! Are you alright?!”

“Are you hurt!?”

“Are you _dead_?!”

Zhu was unable to keep herself from laughing. Chien-Po, too, started chuckling. Finally opening her eyes, Zhu found the worried faces of Ling and Yao staring down at them.

“If we _were_ dead, then we must be in hell,” she chuckled. “ _You_ two are here.”

At that, Ling and Yao burst out laughing.

Sitting up, Chien-Po let out a long, content sigh. “We are very much alive. Just barely, though.” He nearly toppled backwards again as Ling and Yao threw themselves at him, hugging him tightly. “Oof!” He hugged his friends in return, smiling.

Zhu looked over at them, her brow rising and a bit of a smile coming to her lips. “Thanks, by the way. I don’t think I would have been able to make it to shore. Alive, at least.”

“You are welcome. I must admit, it was an instinctual thing to jump in after you. I knew I’d be able to at _least_ help you float.” Managing to sit upright once more, Chien-Po returned her smile from overtop Ling and Yao’s heads. “Though, I mean no offense, Zhu, but you are _much_ heavier than you look.” Still holding onto his friends, he stood up.

Ling, however, managed to slip out of his grip and went over to Zhu.

Taking his hand as he offered her help up, she started to stand. “I’ve heard that before,” she said, wincing. Her ribs throbbed.

“Oof,” Ling grunted. “He’s right -you _are_ heavy.” He reached over, brushing some mud off Zhu’s shoulder.

“I’m also soaking wet,” Zhu replied, brow rising slightly. “And these clothes aren’t the lightest when wet.” Her eyes suddenly shot open and she stumbled forward as Yao managed to sneak up on her and give her a tight hug.

Before she could react, Chien-Po came over and scooped them all up in a hug. “Wh-what’re you doing!?” she stammered, cheeks bright red.

“We’re hugging ya,” Yao replied, his voice somewhat muffled due to being partially buried between Zhu’s shoulder blades. “Or at least _tryin’_ to.”

“Wh-why?!” She squirmed slightly, trying to move just enough to get Ling’s elbow out of her ribs.

She suddenly found herself very thankful for her lack of breasts…

“Because you and Chien-Po nearly _died_ ,” Ling replied, his brow cocked. “Why _else_ would we be hugging you, Mister Stunted Emotions?”

“I—I don’t know…” She felt odd; her stomach felt like it was fluttering, making her feel a bit nauseous. And yet, she felt overwhelmingly… _happy_?

Chien-Po set them down as Yao spoke, “If anythin’, you falling in like that just forced Chien-Po t’ learn how to swim.” He grinned cheekily, though Chien-Po’s cheeks turned bright red and he pouted.

“I would have done the same if it had been you or Ling,” he gently scolded. “ _You_ , especially, since you tend to sink like a rock.”

At that, Yao pouted. “I do not sink!” he scoffed. “I just…I just float a lil’ less than most people.”

Zhu snorted, rolling her eyes. Her stomach still felt fluttery, but not nearly as nauseous now. “We should probably head back before Shang thinks _all_ of us drowned.”

“Yeah…He probably already thinks one of us is dead,” Yao chuckled. He started to head back the way he and Ling had come.

“That’s _if_ he saw Zhu and Chien-Po go in,” Ling said, following after him. “I don’t think he did. He’s all the way on the other side.”

Yao dismissively waved his hand and looked over his shoulder to make sure the other three were following. “Are ya kiddin’, Ling? The guy sees _everything_. Sometimes, I’m afraid t’ take a shit because I think he’d know.”

Zhu followed after Chien-Po, taking up the rear of the group. She smiled as she listened to Yao and Ling jokingly babble on about Shang knowing their every move. After a few minutes, however, she came to realize something: She was _crying_.

‘I’m…crying?’ Her brows furrowing, she unconsciously tried to wipe away the tears only to smear mud across her face. ‘But I’m happy? I shouldn’t be crying. Maybe this is some sort of reaction to nearly dying…?’

Shaking her head, she let out a small sigh and made a mental note to ask Mulan about it later. She had the feeling that, if she asked these three about it, they’d only poke lighthearted fun at her. Mulan, though—Mulan would actually _explain_ to her what she was feeling.

‘Or,’ she thought, ‘I _hope_ she can…’


	11. Chapter 11

“Move your feet more.”

“You could have parried that.”

“Nice try, but you left yourself open to a counterattack.”

“Don’t be afraid to close the distance between the two of you. It has its advantages.”

“Alright. We’ll call that good for now.”

Throwing her sword into the ground, Zhu doubled over and, resting her hands on her thighs, gasped for breath. Her face was bright red and sweat soaked her skin. A flask of water was offered to her and she took it, grunting out a thanks before guzzling the cool liquid.

“I’m surprised,” said Shang, his brow raised as he looked down at her. He was only breathing a little harder than normal and wasn’t nearly as sweaty as Zhu. “You’ve got plenty of skill with hand-to-hand and archery, but your sword skills are severely lacking.”

Zhu didn’t look at him, shoulders heaving with each breath and cheeks burning with shame.

 But she said nothing.

She _couldn’t_ say anything. Shang was right: She _had_ been slow and sloppy. She always had when it came to swordplay. It had never been her forte. Though she _could_ use a sword, she was awkward and clumsy with one.

Even after spending _years_ trying to teach her, Roua and Ruga hadn’t been able to help her improve. They had tried so hard but, eventually, they had given up. They passed her off to Mundzuc and Bleda to learn archery and Edeco to learn wrestling.

She could still remember the frustration and anger in Shan Yu’s eyes when the twins told him of her failure. _‘A Hun knows how to use_ all _their weapons with deadly accuracy,’_ he had said to her, his voice cold and bearing the weight of his displeasure.

That night had been the last time she cried around the Huns.

Finally straightening up, she held the flask back to Shang, though she still avoided eye contact. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words coming out half mumbled.

He cocked a brow as he took the flask. “Sorry? For what?”

“For—For my failure with the sword.”

“It’s not a ‘failure’,” he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You still know _how_ to use a sword. Not very well, but most of the men in this camp have less skill. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You just need more practice.”

Her cheeks still burned; Shang was supposed to be their captain, so why wasn’t he yelling at her? Why wasn’t he humiliating her and making her work harder?

“I spent _years_ practicing, sir,” she told him, her voice still half-mumbled. “Swordplay—swordplay was never something I could get the hang of.”

“How _many_ years?”

She swallowed hard; her stomach was starting to grow queasy and her body felt a bit jittery. “From my early teens to my early twenties, sir,” she answered. “Like I said, I was never able to grasp it.”

“That’s alright. You know enough to keep you alive and you _more_ than make up for it with your archery skills.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “But—but we have to master all weapons, sir. Otherwise we’re not real soldiers.”

His brow rose, concern coming to his face. “Who told you that?”

She was silent for a moment. “My father,” she admitted.

“I mean him no disrespect, but your father was _wrong_.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at him in shock.

“A real soldier doesn’t need to have mastery over all weapons.” His voice was quiet and reassuring. “He doesn’t even need mastery over _one_ weapon. A real soldier is able to _use_ any weapon with enough skill to keep him and his comrades alive.”

He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the rest of the recruits as they sparred against one another. As she looked at him, she could see a mixture of pride and disappointment in his eyes -an odd, but understandable, combination for someone in his position. There was another emotion in his features, though it was not one she could recognize. It seemed almost…sad, in a way.

Then, turning back to Zhu, he hid his feelings behind a half-smile. “Don’t get yourself so worked up over your sword skills, alright?” He reached over, setting his hand on her shoulder. “Just because you can’t slice a grain of rice in half doesn’t mean you’re not fit for the army.”

She nodded, still surprised that he had given her words of encouragement. “Alright, sir,” she murmured, cheeks still blazing red.

Shang gave her shoulder another before starting to walk off. “Alright, recruits! That’s enough sword practice for today!” he called out.

Swallowing hard, Zhu awkwardly rubbed her arm. Though her body still felt jittery, the nausea had gone away. In its place, however, a strange lump had been left. Shaking her head, she tried to ignore it as she made her way towards a bucket. She dropped her wooden sword into it, a hollow ‘thud’ echoing back out.

Though they had been given leave for lunch, she didn’t feel very hungry. In fact, the thought of food _almost_ brought back her nausea. So, when the recruits started forming a crowd around the bucket to return their swords, she took the chance to dart away before Ping, Ling, Yao, or Chien-Po could find her.

‘An hour should be plenty of time,’ she thought, making her way through the camp. She was careful and deliberate in the path she chose; it was one that would make it difficult for her friends to spot her as they headed for lunch. ‘But even if they don’t find me, they’ll probably know I went to the stables…but I won’t be there.’ A wry grin came to her lips.

Stepping into the stables, she was greeted by the smell of fresh grain and manure. To anyone else, it would have been a gut-churning smell, but it had become one of comfort to Zhu. As she approached Umut’s stall, she made a clicking sound with her tongue. The mare poked her head out, snorting.

“Want to go for a ride, little sister?” she questioned, her voice gentle as she stroked the underside of Umut’s jaw. “It can’t be a very long one, but it’ll still get you out of this stall for a bit.”

Umut softly nickered, her tail swishing patiently behind her. She remained in place as Zhu opened the gate to her stall before heading over to grab her saddle. When she came back, the mare took a few steps out of the stall, making it easier for her rider to put her saddle on.

Zhu made quick work of securing the saddle before mounting Umut. “Ready, girl?” she grinned.

Whinnying, Umut started to walk towards the stable doors. Zhu had left them open; the two stallions and the gelding were secure in their stalls, so she had no worry of them getting out while she was gone. She ducked as they passed through the doors and, as she sat up, Umut started to trot.

“Don’t be too eager, little sister,” she quietly warned. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone for a ride. I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

She almost felt bad for her horse. She had been able to ride her a couple times over the last month, but the rides had been short -half an hour at the most. For the most part, Umut and the other horses were used by the cooking staff to haul around freshly-delivered shipments of food or for hauling firewood around. Umut was more than capable of pulling a load -she had used to pull her folded up yurt around.

But that was before Shan Yu sold off half the army’s yurts in order to buy more food and more warriors. Bleda and Mundzuc had also been forced to give up their yurts, leaving them to share Edeco’s yurt. Roua and Ruga already shared one, so Zhu ended up sleeping in theirs.

‘So long as I didn’t have to share one with Hayabusa, that’s fine with me,’ she thought with a scowl.

By now, Umut was going at a canter and the camp was quickly growing smaller behind them. Closing her eyes, Zhu allowed herself to tilt her head back and a sigh of content left her mouth.

Spirits, she had _missed_ riding.

It was clear Umut had missed it, too. With a proud snort, she gave up the canter in favor of a full-out gallop. Zhu lurched forward in surprise but, despite her side aching with pain, she laughed. She shifted in the saddle, hunching her back and lifting herself a bit to lessen the load on Umut’s back.

‘Now _this_ is what the Chinese _should_ be learning,’ she thought, a broad smirk on her lips. ‘If they want any sort of hope of defeating Shan Yu, they need to be on the backs of horses!’

For the first time since coming to Moo-Shung, she felt truly _happy_. Only one thing could have made her feel better and that was to be chasing some sort of prey -animal or human, she didn’t care.

‘Maybe instead of slitting his throat, I should make Chi-Fu run away from me?’ A wicked grin came to her lips. ‘No, that’d be _too_ easy. He should ride his gelding. Then I can hunt him down like the rat he is. The gelding may fetch a decent price with one of the Mongol tribes…’

Her heart, already racing, started to beat even faster. Her mind started to fill with visions - _dark_ visions. She saw herself presenting Chi-Fu’s severed head to Shan Yu, a look of pure fear forever etched on the advisor’s face. Her uncle wore an expression of pride as he declared her triumph to the rest of the Huns. A feeling of smugness swelled inside her chest.

And then the vision switched. She and Shan Yu were standing on a balcony, dressed in fine silks and jewelry. A sea of people stretched out before them, all of them kneeling. She smirked; it was as if the whole of China were bowing before them.

‘Look at them,’ she thought, ‘look how they tremble. They know how weak and cowardly they are. They are nothing compared to us.’

She had never felt so strong, so _powerful_. Was this how her uncle felt? Was this what he felt with every victory he won?

She turned away from the crowd only to freeze up, her eyes wide in horror. Almost the entirety of the Moo-Shung camp had been behind her, ropes around their necks as they hung from the rafters. They were all dead and freshly so -many faces were still blotched with purple and red from being suffocated.

But right up front were her friends. Mulan, Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po’s bodies gently swayed in the slight breeze. No matter where they moved, though, their lifeless eyes were fixed on her.

Umut suddenly let out a terrified squeal and reared back on her hind legs. Zhu was just _barely_ able to hold on, having to lurch forward and hold onto Umut’s neck. She swore as the mare started to buck and kick, white foam flying from her mouth.

Zhu looked around, trying to find anything that would have scared her. But there was nothing -just wide, open fields. Even the skies were clear!

“Calm yourself, little sister!” she cried, tugging on the reins. “Calm yourself! Shh! There’s nothing to be frightened of!”

She wished she could believe that herself. The feeling of strength and glory had left her. In their place, they had left her feeling scared and sick. Umut’s fright wasn’t helping; she was a brave horse and had seen many battles in her life.

 _What_ had scared her so bad?!

Still struggling to calm the frenzied mare, Zhu clenched her eyes shut and, in desperation, tried one last thing: She started to sing.

 

 

> _When the moon rises_
> 
> _And stars fill the sky_
> 
> _The wolves will hunt_
> 
> _And the bats will fly_
> 
> _Bears hide away_
> 
> _And the waiting tiger lies_
> 
> _While you, my child, are safe inside_
> 
> _Here in my arms_
> 
> _You are safe and warm_
> 
> _The creatures of night_
> 
> _Will bring you no harm_
> 
> _So sleep little baby, sleep little one_
> 
> _Sleep my child, sleep ‘til morn_

As she sang, Umut began to calm down. By the time she had finished the second verse, the mare was standing still and breathing heavily. Foam still dripped from her mouth, her ears were pointed forward, and her tail was flipping around furiously -all signs of an _angry_ horse.

But angry was better than scared.

Zhu nervously dismounted from her back, worry on her face as she started to stroke her neck. “What was that all about, little sister?” she cooed, trying to reassure her. “What got you so worked up?”

Snorting, Umut lowered her head and started rubbing on Zhu’s torso; she was careful to avoid Zhu’s left side.

“What is going on with you?” She reached up, wrapping her arms around the mare’s neck. Turning her head and closing her eyes, she pressed her ear against the artery running up Umut’s neck. She listened to her heartbeat, thankful that it was beginning to slow down. As it slackened, she forced herself to breathe in time with it.

Slowly, the fear left her mind. Breathing along with Umut’s heartbeat, Zhu felt herself becoming calm and collected. The sickness in her stomach faded, though she was still left a bit shaky. Finally stepping back, a sigh of relief left her mouth when she saw Umut’s ears were no longer stiff and her tail was now lazily flicking against her flank.

“Feel better?” she asked, voice soft.

Umut blew some air against her cheek -another good sign.

As she once more mounted the mare and turned her back towards camp, Zhu began wondering something.

‘She started acting up when I was having those—those _hallucinations_ ,’ she thought, frowning. ‘She had been completely fine until then…Did I scream or shout without realizing it and scared her? No. She wouldn’t get so worked up over something like that.’

Umut was going at a canter; Zhu knew they’d be back at camp with plenty of time to spare.

‘The last time I saw her so angry was when Mundzuc yelled at me when I came back from killing those princes.’ Her brow rising, she looked down at Umut’s white-and-black mane. ‘…Did she know about those thoughts? No. She couldn’t have. But she _could_ have sensed the fear they had brought me…’

Shaking her head, she let out a small sigh. “I wish you could talk, little sister,” she quietly spoke, “so if this happens again, I can _know_ what’s wrong…”

 

When they returned to camp, they were greeted by the sight of Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po eating their lunches outside the stable. A small sigh left Zhu’s mouth; she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to be around people just yet. But then she remembered how she had found them in her ‘vision’ and she found herself _almost_ wanting to hug them.

They were still _alive_. They were still _safe_.

“I _told_ ya he’d be back before we finished eatin’!” Yao grinned, lightly punching Ling’s arm.

Ling winced, rubbing the spot. “Normally, he’s gone right up until Shang calls us back,” he argued. “You can’t blame me for thinking he’d miss lunch _again_.” He got ready to elbow Yao upside the head.

Chien-Po intervened, easily lifting Ling and setting him on his other side. “Now, now. We haven’t finished eating. You can roughhouse _after_ you finish your xiao long bao.” His voice was as gentle as ever, but there was a bit of a scolding look on his face. He then looked up at Zhu. “We saved you some in case you returned early.”

Zhu smiled. “Thanks. I’ll get Umut put away then I’ll eat.”

Yao quickly shook his head. “I wouldn’t go in there if I was yous,” he said, having shoved half a dumpling into his cheek so he could talk. “Your _favorite_ advisor is in there carin’ for his horse.”

At that, her face fell and she glared at the stable doors. “Is that so?” she murmured. Then, shrugging, she dismounted from Umut and patted the side of her neck. “Go on, girl. I’ll stable you up after dinner.”

Umut leaned her head down, pressing her nose against Zhu’s cheek and blowing a bit of hot air against her skin. She then trotted off, her tail lazily flicking behind her.

“You’re just going to let her go off on her own?” Ling asked, brow rising.

Zhu sat down on the other side of Yao, closing her eyes as she tried to find a position that didn’t hurt. “The stallions are penned up. She’s fine.”

“Yeah, but what about wild animals?”

“Horses are cautious creatures,” Chien-Po answered, handing Zhu a stack of bamboo steamer baskets and a spoon once she was situated. “Zhu’s mare is no exception.”

Zhu nodded, opening the first basket and plucking out a dumpling; it was easier than trying to pick them up with the spoon. “Umut knows how to care for herself. If anything tries to attack her, it’ll either end up dead or severely injured.” The xiao long bao were still warm, but no longer hot. This suited her; the broth they held inside wouldn’t burn her tongue this way. She popped an entire dumpling into her mouth.

“This is _Zhu’s_ horse we’re talking about, after all,” Yao chuckled. He watched as she ate another dumpling, frowning slightly.

Her brow rose as she saw his frown. “What’s wrong?” Her stomach slightly growled; she was hungrier than she had thought.

“You’re eatin’ those wrong, kid,” he answered.

Her brows furrowed and she looked back at the dumplings. “They’re just dumplings…? How am I eating them wrong?”

“Well, first of all, you’re supposed t’ have a spoon,” he explained, “and you hold the dumpling in the spoon. Then, usin’ your chopsticks -er, _fork_ , in your case- you open the xiao long bao up a bit so the soup comes out. Then ya sip the soup, getting a taste of it and _only_ it before eating the rest.”

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “That is the whole point of xiao long bao: They are to be savored.” He sipped the broth from a dumpling out of his spoon, a sigh of content leaving his mouth. “We’re lucky the cooks even made these for us; they’re difficult and tedious to cook.”

Zhu looked back at her lunch, still not understanding _why_ she had to eat them in such a strange fashion. She was still able to taste the soup when she ate them whole. Why even put soup in a dumpling if the point was to just spill it into a spoon anyway?

“Ah, c’mon guys, let him eat how he wants,” Ling chuckled. “You let _Qi_ eat them in one bite!”

“That’s because it was _Qi_ who introduced us to xiao long bao in the first place,” Chien-Po retorted. “He would eat it properly _most_ of the time.”

Yao, having finished his own stack of steamers, leaned back and let out a loud, content belch. “It would’a been rude of us to correct him when he was the one _buyin’_ us the stuff,” he added. “But Zhu don’t know any better, so it’s up t’ us to make sure he knows the _right_ way to eat them.”

Rolling her eyes, Zhu plopped a dumpling in her spoon. “It’s a _dumpling_ ,” she murmured, using one of the fork tines to stab a hole in it. As the broth spilled out, she sipped it as instructed before eating the whole thing. “There,” she said after swallowing. “It tasted _exactly_ the same.”

Chien-Po let out a sigh, shaking his head. “When this war is over, we will have to make sure we teach you a _lot_ about civilian life…”

‘ _When this war is over.’_ Zhu felt her stomach drop at his words. She knew it was going to end -one way or another, it _would_ end. But which side was she going to be on? She wanted to be with her friends even if it meant dying alongside them. In less than two months, they had given her a better life than she had ever experienced while with the Huns.

But there was another part of her. A part that yearned to feel the glory and the power she had felt in that vision. She was Shan Yu’s only heir -if he were to conquer China, it would be _her_ who would someday sit on that throne. Even the elite would have to bow before her then— _no_. She would have her own group of elite warriors.

She could beg Shan Yu to spare her friends so that they would become her elite. And then, when she became empress, she could grant them power they could have only ever dreamed of.

She suddenly jolted to the side, blinking in surprise as Yao elbowed her.

“Kid, you’re gettin’ lost in your thoughts again,” he told her, a bit of worry on his face.

Zhu gave him a half-hearted apologetic smile. “Sorry.” Putting another dumpling in her spoon, she stabbed it open and drank the broth.

Chien-Po tilted his head, his brow rising. “You have been getting lost in your thoughts a lot more often these past two weeks,” he commented. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she answered, chewing on the dumpling.

Ling dismissively waved his hand. “Oh, leave him be. He’s just still getting used to being a soldier instead of a mercenary,” he told them. “He’ll be fine.”

Yao snorted. “I dunno, Ling. I think it’d be good for him t’ keep his mercenary senses about him. Once we’re called off to war, he’ll need them on the battlefield.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” she chuckled, though her voice bore hints of weariness. “Being a mercenary is in my blood. It’ll _always_ be a part of me.”


	12. Chapter 12

_All around her, the world was on fire._

_Zhu found herself a child again, trapped in a burning yurt. Thick, choking smoke stung her eyes and filled her lungs, trying to silence her as she called out for help. It worked, but only partially: She ended up doubled over, coughing harshly. There was someone else shouting -a woman. Through the smoke and her tears, she could see the hazy face of the woman across the yurt from her._

_Not just any woman, she realized: Her mother._

_Her mother was screaming her name and struggling to reach her, but something was holding her back. Zhu tried stumbling towards her, her voice hoarse as she called out to her again. She didn’t get far before a scream of terror left her mouth as part of the yurt’s roof collapsed, forever hiding her mother from her._

_Coughing again, she fell to her knees. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. She tried to find a way out of the yurt, but the flames obscured her vision. Her thick, winter clothes and long, thick hair made her feel as if she were roasting alive._

_Was this to be how she died? Cooked like a sheep in her own home?_

_Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her. She was pulled out of the flames, away from the yurt. Her eyes still burned and she stilled coughed from the smoke, but she knew who it was who was carrying her._

_“Water!” Shan Yu called out, setting her down on the ground. “Someone bring me water!”_

_Minutes later, he was carefully pouring cool water over her eyes. When they finally stopped stinging, he made her drink some of the water; it felt impossibly cold as it slid down her parched throat._

_“Did they hurt you?” he asked, resting his large hands on her arms. “Did they do anything to you?”_

_She shook her head. “They pulled me from mama,” she told him. Her voice was so small and so scared; how had she ever sounded so innocent? “Everything was burning. They threw me from mama. I tried to help her, but—but they were too big, Uncle Yu!” She started sobbing. “I couldn’t help mama!”_

_Shan Yu pulled her against him, holding her protectively. “No. But you’re safe and that’s what matters to me right now,” he told her and she could tell that he was crying. “They didn’t take you from me. They may have taken my brother and his wife, but they didn’t take_ you _. And they will_ never _take you. I will keep you safe.”_

_Around them, the world was still burning. Chaos reigned in that moment: Horses stampeded, terrified by the ambush; men shouted for help as their homes burnt to the ground; soldiers were shouting orders as they rode away from the hell they created._

_But she felt safe. Uncle Yu had_ always _made her feel safe. He always protected her, even if it was from something as small as a grasshopper._

_She closed her eyes, burying her face in her uncle’s shoulder. Upon opening her eyes, she found herself suddenly alone and once again fully grown. She was sitting on an intricately carved throne, her body covered in fine silks and satins. Something heavy sat atop her head -some sort of headdress?_

_A pair of doors opened across the room from her. Five people entered; four of them were clad in armor while the fifth was being dragged between them. As they came closer, Zhu saw that the armored people were familiar to her, but at the same time not._

_Ling, Yao, Chien-Po, and Mulan knelt before her, forcing the fifth person to kneel as well. They were all older -at least ten years had been added to each of them- and their armor was strong. Finely crafted weapons rested at their sides._

_All of them, even peaceful Chien-Po, looked ready to kill the second the orders left her lips._

_Yao spoke to her, though she didn’t hear what he said. Her own mouth moved in reply, speaking words she couldn’t hear. But she didn’t need to hear them to know what was going on._

_Ling grabbed a fistful of their captive’s hair and pulled back, forcing the man to look at Zhu. She didn’t think she recognized him, but she_ felt _like she did. He had an ill look about him and his eyes were filled with hatred as he was forced to look at her._

_Zhu stood and descended the throne’s steps, walking towards the man. As she drew closer, she felt herself growing both amused and angered by the stranger. Again, her mouth opened and she spoke silent words—words that filled her with a sense of pride and authority._

_The man snarled a reply back at her and she stepped aside in time to avoid being spat on. Before she had time to react, Mulan had drawn a knife and brought it across the man’s neck. His blood spilled down onto his clothes and onto the carpet, forming a puddle. A puddle that he fell into as Yao and Chien-Po let go of his body._

_Mulan and Yao chuckled. Ling wore a wicked smirk and Chien-Po was expressionless._

_This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all._

_She backed away from the group, her brows furrowing. “No,” she heard herself finally say. “No! Stop this! This is wrong!” She swore as she fell, having stumbled over the steps of the throne._

_Mulan rushed forward to help her, but Zhu tried to shove her away._

_“Stay away from me!” she snarled. “You’re not my friend!_ None _of you are!” She clenched her eyes shut and her hands gripped the sides of her head. “This isn’t real…this_ can’t _be real! You would never do this!”_

 _She dared to open her eyes again. There was nothing -absolutely_ nothing _\- save for a single figure across from her._

_Qi._

_His skin was pale with death and his eyes were dark and hollow; there was dried blood in the corners of his mouth. He wore the clothes that had been taken from him, but they looked worn and threadbare._

_“You killed me,” he told her. His voice was barely a whisper and sounded similar to Ling’s; she wondered if that was what his voice sounded like when he was alive._

_Zhu swallowed hard. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she said. “The others…they were going to torture you.”_

_“But there was a chance I would have lived. You took that away from me.”_

_She shook her head. “There was no chance you would have lived.”_

_“Oh?” He suddenly changed forms; Zhu was now looking at herself atop Umut. “If that man had survived long enough to find help, then our journey could have been jeopardized. Then it would be the Emperor laughing, not you.”_

_She stared, wide-eyed and silent, as he changed back. Then, in a blur, Qi was inches from her face, his cold hands wrapped around her throat. A choking noise left her mouth as she gripped at his wrist, trying to make him release her._

_“You_ knew _there was a chance I would have survived,” he snarled. His breathe reeked of rot and decay. “You_ knew _damn well that I could have lived! But you killed me.”_

_“I-I spared you from a painf-ful death!” she wheezed. “You would-dn’t have ma-made it t-to help!” Her brain was pounding against the inside of her skull and her lungs burned; she felt ready to explode._

_“The only thing you ‘spared’ me from was a long life!” he snarled. “You shot an arrow into my skull and left my body to rot on the side of a mountain pass!” With surprising strength, he threw her down._

_Stars danced in front of Zhu’s eyes as her head hit whatever it was that made up the ground. She groaned and tried to sit up, but it was in vain. Qi knelt on her chest, keeping her pinned down._

_“Look at you,” he hissed. “Look at how you have the audacity to walk around in_ my _clothes. How you have the audacity to befriend_ my _twin brother!? All the while he knows nothing of my death!”_

_“I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry! If I could-If I could, I’d go back an-and help you. I’d make sure you lived. I’m so sorry…”_

_“If you were truly sorry,” he sneered, “you’d tell my brother what you did. You’d tell him how you killed his only brother in cold blood.” He ignored her sobs and the apologies she wept. “You’d tell him that, for three months, you wore his dead brother’s clothing. How you donned his dead brother’s armor. And all for what? To add another life to the list of ones you’ve already ended?”_

_He gripped her throat once more. This time, his fingers dug into her flesh, pinching closed the arteries. “You aren’t worthy of my forgiveness. You aren’t worthy of_ anyone’s _forgiveness, Shan Zhu.” Her vision was fading fast and, once again, her brain pounded against her skull. “The only thing you deserve is to be gutted and left to rot in some ditch, forgotten by the world. You deserve hell and I’m going to be the one to drag you to it!”_

Zhu’s eyes shot open as she gasped for breath. Rolling over, she practically threw herself out of her bed and started to frantically dig through her saddlebags. Her entire body was covered in a cold sweat, making her shiver despite the warm night air.

The dreams had been too real for her liking.

 _Far_ too real.

What didn’t help was that this was the fourth night in a row that she had had nightmares. She couldn’t remember how many she had had—just that they were beginning to make her wary of sleeping.

When her fingers brushed against a small, worn leather pouch, she fell back on her hindquarters in relief. She opened the bag and dumped its contents into her palm. It was still night, so the darkness prevented her from seeing the figurine, but as she ran her fingers along the carved surface, she knew _exactly_ what she held:

The Earth Mother.

Zhu swallowed hard, haphazardly wiping some tears from her face. Roua and Ruga had given her the figurine when she had had her first blood week. She had reached womanhood, they had told her, and so she should carry the Earth Mother with her for luck and for protection.

Shan Yu had scoffed at the gift and told her to not waste her time on it -there were other, more _powerful_ forces in the world than the Earth Mother and Sky Father.

But she had kept it. Most of the time, it was hidden away in the bottom of her saddlebags. Sometimes, she even forgot she had the thing. When she found times growing tough or found herself beginning to grow too nervous for her own good, however, she sought out the figurine.

She had never been taught how to pray, so she never did. Instead, she held the figurine close and simply _hoped._ She didn’t even know _what_ she hoped for -she just hoped for something positive to happen. As she sat there, clutching the Earth Mother to her chest, the only sound she could hear was that of her own heartbeat.

It wasn’t quite as comforting as being around Umut, but it evidently worked well enough, because when she opened her eyes, it was daylight. Her brows furrowed in confusion when she found herself lying on the floor of her tent and someone shaking her. She sat up, looking around.

“You alright, kid?” It was Yao. “You look like you’re in a daze.”

“…I kind of am,” she admitted, raising a hand to her head. She had a bit of a headache—was it caused by Qi? ‘No,’ she told herself. ‘That was a dream. Nothing more.’

Yao frowned, hooking his thumbs in his sash. “Another nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Standing up, she started searching for her clothes. She was thankful that her underclothes covered her enough to hide her womanly bits -especially since she had been gaining a bit of weight, making her breasts a bit more, well, breast-shaped. “Am I late?” As she pulled on her pants, she suppressed a shudder.

_‘Look at you, wearing my clothes! My armor!’_

Later, she would take Mulan up on her offer to loan her some clothes.

She wanted -no, _needed-_ to burn these ones.

“Not yet,” he said, looking around her tent. The contents of her saddlebags were strewn everywhere, making him lift his brow. He wasn’t at all surprised to see that most of the things were needed to care for weapons. A few things, though, were surprising for him to see -like the Earth Mother figurine as well as some silk handkerchiefs, what looked like a tangled mess of jewelry, and a partly-opened pouch of dried herbs. “You need to take better care of your tent.”

She looked at him, confusion still on her face. “Huh?” Then, looking at her floor, she cursed. “I’ll get this picked up later—I, uh, thought I lost something last night.” She started turning round and round, looking for her left shoe.

“Mhm.” It was obvious he didn’t believe her. “We’re going to be marching today, by the way.” He held her shoe out to her.

She frowned, taking the shoe. “I thought we were going to be working on bo staff training?”

“We were, but then a coupla the guys started sassing Chi-Fu.” He turned, heading out of the tent.

“ _Of course_ they did,” Zhu sighed, following him out. She covered her mouth as she yawned. “Tell me who and I’ll make sure they regret it.”

He snorted. “No need. The rest o’ us got them good by dumping our tea on them.”

“What a waste of mediocre tea.”

At that, he let out a loud, hearty laugh. “So you think it’s just mediocre now? It’s no longer disgusting, eh?” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

She shrugged; she was oddly grateful to hear his laughter. It was uplifting. “It’s still gross,” she admitted, “but I’ve grown used to it. The tea at dinner is better.”

“I’m pretty sure the morning tea is just the leftover tea from the day before with some fresh water and a coupla fresh leaves added in,” he chuckled. “But you got ta admit: The bitterness helps wake you up!”

“Very true,” she said, covering her mouth a second time.

His brow rose. “Looks like you could really do with some.” There was a bit of concern in his voice. “C’mon. We’ll get some in ya before we march our feet off.”

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon…we’re almost there! You can do this, Ping.”

Mulan grunted, her calves and lungs burning as she struggled to keep up with Zhu. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and into her eyes, making her scrunch up her beet-red face in pain. And yet, she found that her shoulders no longer ached from the weight of the pole -in fact, it didn’t bother her at all. She knew it had to have been because of her upper body workouts.

She looked up, squinting through the sweat. The walls of the camp were just a few hundred yards away. She was almost there. Just a little bit further—

Her legs gave out and she went sprawling forward. Zhu cursed; Mulan’s pole had caught her foot. She fell beside her, landing face-first on the hard ground. A groan left her mouth as the coppery tang of blood began filling her mouth.

Mulan turned her head, her shoulders heaving from the effort of breathing. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t,” Zhu interrupted, pushing herself onto her knees. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the dirt before wincing: She had bit a chunk of her cheek off when she fell. “Come on. We need to get you back on your feet.”

As she started helping Mulan, a shadow fell over both of them. Both women looked up, expecting to see Shang, but they instead found Chien-Po, Ling, and Yao. Before either of could say anything, Yao and Ling were hauling Zhu onto her feet while Chien-Po easily lifted Mulan.

“Are you two alright?” Chien-Po asked, his brows half-raised with worry. “That was a nasty fall you took…”

“We’re—We’re fine,” Mulan answered, though her voice betrayed her state of breathlessness.

“ _Mostly_ fine,” Zhu murmured before spitting another mouthful of blood on the ground. “I took a chunk out of my cheek.”

Chien-Po noticed how she avoided looking at any of them and frowned slightly.

Ling stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Why are you _always_ the one getting hurt ‘round here?” he asked.

Yao snorted, crouching down and picking up their fallen poles. “Hey, _plenty_ of us have been hurt over the last few months. The arrow in my butt, you smashin’ your face, Chien-Po getting burned from the cannons, and Tingfei’s shattered pride just t’ name a few.”

Mulan chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “No one said learning to be soldiers was going to be easy…”

Chien-Po nodded in agreement. “Too true…” He glanced over his shoulder as they heard Shang call out to them.

Zhu sighed. “We had better hurry or else he’ll make us run laps or something,” she said, taking her pole back from Yao. “Then again, that may help me sleep better…” She spat a final time, thankful to find that it was more saliva than blood this time.

She prayed dinner wouldn’t be something sour.

“Feel free to stay behind then,” Ling chuckled. “ _I’m_ not going to run laps.” He then sprinted off.

“Get back here, ya limp noodle!” Yao called, hurrying after him.

Chien-Po, however, kept pace with Mulan and Zhu. “You managed to make it much farther this time, Ping,” he said, his tone optimistic. “You’ve improved quite a bit!”

“I still collapsed,” she replied. Zhu could hear the wheeze in her voice. “I still _want_ to collapse…”

“But you’re not. You’re pressing on and without help. You should be proud of how far you’ve come -no pun intended, of course.”

Zhu cocked her brow; she had never heard that word before. “Pun?” she asked.

“A play on words,” he answered. “I’m not quite sure how to describe it further. Ling would know, though. He and Qi are the jokesters of our little group.”

She nodded in understanding, though said nothing. Swallowing hard, she kept her gaze on the ground ahead of her. ‘I don’t know if I can bring myself to talk to Ling,’ she thought. ‘Not after those nightmares.’

“Zhu,” Chien-Po said, bringing her out of her thoughts. She slightly turned her head, but still refused to look at him. “I’d like you to come to my tent before dinner.”

“Oh…Uh, I’d love to, but—”

“No ‘buts’,” he told her, voice gentle but firm. “It will be quick, I promise.”

She nodded, knowing she couldn’t get out of this. If he really wanted to speak with her, he could just pick her up and carry her to his tent.

Mulan frowned; she had never seen Zhu give in so quickly. “Are you really okay?” she asked, slowing her pace as they drew near to the bridge leading into camp. “You’re…not yourself lately.”

“I’m fine.” She unshouldered the pole, offering to take Mulan’s as well. “I just haven’t been getting the best sleep lately.”

Her brow rose, handing over her pole. “I can tell. You’ve had dark circles under your eyes for almost a week.”

“And you haven’t been doing as well during training,” Chien-Po added, taking both poles from Zhu before she could carry them off. “Which is what I want to speak with you about.”

She forced a small smile. “It’s just a bout of bad sleep,” she said. “It happens to everyone sometimes.” She watched Chien-Po take the poles over to the pile left by everyone who had already returned.

“Yes, and I have a way to help you with that,” he chirped, letting the three poles fall onto the pile. Coming back over, he set his hand on her shoulder. “Come. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

As he started to guide her towards his tent, she looked over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you by the stables after dinner,” she told Mulan.

She groaned. “We’re _still_ working out? After today’s march!?”

Zhu chuckled, her brow rising. She didn’t have time to reply, though, as Mulan slouched forward and made her way towards the dining area.

It didn’t surprise Zhu that Chien-Po had been given one of the larger tents. Though they were normally meant for two or three men, he was the only occupant of his tent. Inside, he had a bed as well as a small table with writing supplies and an incense burner on top of it. There was also a small pile of scrolls neatly stacked in the corner by the bag containing his spare clothing.

“This is very… _you_ ,” she told him as he sat down at the little table. She was almost afraid to move; everything was so clean and orderly. Though she kept her own tent clean _most_ of the time, it was nothing compared to this.

A bit of a guilty smile came to his lips. “Yao’s doing, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I sometimes get too carried away with my readings and notes that I forget to tidy up before bed.” He motioned for her to come closer.

Her brow rose; she somehow didn’t believe him. “… _Yao_ was the one who did this?” she repeated, moving to stand beside him.

Though he was sitting, his head nearly reached her shoulders. “Yes. Of the four of us, Yao is the cleanest. He’s always been fickle about clutter,” he chuckled. As she looked down at the table, she saw that he was writing something on a sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” she asked, brows furrowed. She wasn’t the best at reading Chinese -she mostly knew herb names and medicinal blends. Everything else just looked like a jumble of lines.

“ _This_ is a fulu -a talisman. It will help you to sleep better,” he explained.

At that, Zhu snorted. “Talismans _aren’t_ made of paper. They’re made of stone or wood or bone.”

His brow rose; he looked more surprised than anything. “You’ve…never heard of paper talismans before? Haven’t you ever been in a temple?”

She shook her head. She hoped that it wasn’t an uncommon enough thing that it would out her as a Hun.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be such. “Well, it’s understandable,” he told her, wearing a reassuring smile. “Mercenaries aren’t really the types to visit temples, anyway. Except for those dedicated to the gods of death -but those are mostly found further south.”

She knew that wasn’t entirely true -aside from Shan Yu, most of the Huns she knew _were_ diligently religious. But their beliefs were different from that of Chien-Po’s Taoist beliefs.

Setting his brush back into the inkwell, Chien-Po lifted the piece of paper, blowing on it to help the ink dry faster. “Put this somewhere near your bed tonight,” he instructed, handing it to her. “Under your pillow would work, too. If I wrote this correctly, then you should have a pleasant, restful sleep tonight.”

Nodding in understanding, she took the paper from him and looked it over. “That’s all I have to do? Put it under my pillow?” she questioned, attempting to decipher the words. “No dripping blood onto it or speaking some magic words?”

“Just put it under your pillow,” he said, a bit of a frown coming to his face. “There are talismans that require blood in order to work…?”

“Yeah. They’re fairly common among my people.”

“What are they used for?” He stood up, starting to head for the entrance of his tent.

“All sorts of things. Bringing luck, summoning divine help, fertility…” She shrugged, following him. “By giving your own blood, you’re proving to the gods that you’re serious about whatever it is you want, making it more likely that they’ll help you. At least, that’s what I’ve been _told._ I don’t really practice it…”

“Interesting. When I’m back in a city, I’ll have to do some research on other religions…see if there is anything else I should know.”

Zhu cocked her brow. “Why?”

He chuckled. “I love to learn new things,” he explained. “It helps me better understand the world and helps me understand the troubles of other people. I know, it’s strange…but I’ve always been fond of learning.”

“That much I knew,” she chuckled. “You definitely aren’t meant for fighting.”

Chien-Po let out a small sigh, frowning. “Yes, I know…I had hoped to avoid being drafted, since I was working as a calligrapher, but, well…”

“I’m sure you’ll be highly sought after when this war is over,” she told him, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “After all, _someone’s_ going to have to keep Yao and Ling stuffed full of xiao long bao.”

 

It was growing dark by the time Zhu headed back to her tent, bearing both the fulu and an armful of new clothing given to her by Mulan. She had been more than a little thankful that Mulan told her she could keep the clothes; after all, hers were getting fairly beaten up.

As she approached her tent, she frowned. Her lantern was lit and she could see the silhouette of Yao puttering around.

‘What is he doing?’ she thought, quickening her pace somewhat. ‘He’s not even _trying_ to be sneaky. Is he trying to steal something…? No, that’s not like him…’

She flung open the flap to her tent, finding Yao leaning over her bed. “What are you doing in my tent?” she demanded as he started to mess with her pillow.

He jumped, his eye wide as he looked at her. “Oh, hey Zhu!” he chirped. How was Ping’s extra training? He gettin’ any better?”

“Yes,” she slowly replied, looking around for anything missing. She was surprised: Her tent was _clean_. Not just items picked up and put back in their proper places, but it had also been swept and nice-smelling incense had been burnt to make it smell better. “You…cleaned my tent…?”

Chien-Po _hadn’t_ been lying, then…

“Yeah. Figured you could’a used it after a shitty night’s sleep,” he shrugged. “Don’t know ‘bout you, kid, but sleeping in a nice, clean space always helps me ta sleep better.”

“Oh…well…thank you,” she said, unable to really come up with anything else. Yao was the _last_ person she’d expect to be so clean.

He shrugged, still grinning. “No problem, kid. It’s not like ya had a lot of stuff ta pick up anyway. It was mostly sweepin’ and putting things back in your saddlebags. Anyway, it’s all clean now, so I’ll leave ya be.” He started to walk past her, but he paused giving her a nudge. “Oh, an’ by the way: Didn’t think you’d be much of a ladies’ man, but I see that I’m wrong!”

She blinked. “Er…what?”

A cheeky grin came to his lips as he nodded towards her saddlebags. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me! I know anti-pregnancy tea when I see it,” he snickered. “I’ve had ta buy it a time or two myself over the years. Never thought to keep some on me, though, let alone the amount you’ve got stored! The ladies must _adore_ you!”

Her cheeks turned a deep red; she had totally forgotten she still had _that_ tea with her. Rubbing the back of her neck, she glanced away. “It’s n-not for that,” she murmured. “It, uh, works well for…for headaches.”

“ _Mmmhmmm_ ,” he said in a tone that made it all-too obvious he didn’t believe her. “Headaches. _Sure_.” Still snickering, he nudged her again and left.

As soon as she knew it was safe, Zhu hurried over to her bags and pulled out the pouch of tea. ‘I can’t believe I still have this,’ she thought, cheeks still hot with embarrassment. ‘It’s got to be at least a year old by now…Surely it’s not good anymore? Even if it is, it’s getting burned. Not like I have any need of it…’

Shaking her head, she shed her clothes in favor of trying on the ones given to her by Mulan. Whoever Mulan had taken these from was smaller in the shoulders and shorter in the leg than her, though. She wondered if, perhaps, she had had them made to fit her or if they had belonged to her father? Once she was satisfied that they wouldn’t rip at the seams from her moving, she took them off and folded them, setting them on the ground beside her bed.

‘If I tried to wear Shan Yu’s clothing,’ she thought, folding Qi’s clothing up into a neat pile, ‘I’d be swimming in them.’ Setting the clothes aside, she untied her hair and started to finger-comb it; she’d burn the clothes after the next rain. The earth was too dry to burn anything at the moment.

‘If these clothes did belong to Mulan’s father, he must have been a relatively small man.’ She paused, her brow rising slightly. ‘Then again, most of these men are smaller than the Huns - _most_ of the Huns, that is. Bleda and Mundzuc are slighter…maybe they’ve got Chinese in their blood, too?’

The second the thought passed through her mind, she could hear their voices yelling at her. How _dare_ she suggest such a thing—Of _course_ they didn’t have Chinese blood in them! They were entirely Hun, unlike her. If anything, they were smaller because they had _Mongol_ blood in them and that was perfectly alright because they were to be respected and feared. They were just as good of warriors as the Huns and even better horsemen.

‘No,’ she told herself, slipping the fulu under her pillow and blowing out her lantern, ‘they definitely have Chinese blood in them…the Mongols are broader, like Huns. Bleda is a twig of a man and Mundzuc is almost the same size as Tingfei.’ Laying down, she chuckled to herself. ‘Maybe he’s _related_ to Tingfei…’

 

When morning dawned, it wasn’t a nightmare that awakened Zhu. Instead, shouts of encouragement and cheering outside her tent were what roused her. Confused by the racket, she hurried out of bed and got dressed. She started tying her hair up as she stepped outside, but quickly let go of it when she saw the reason for everyone’s cheering.

Climbing high above them, her face red from exertion and the back of her tunic drenched with sweat, was Mulan. She was about five feet from reaching the arrow at the top of the pole.

A grin slowly started spreading across Zhu’s lips. She started joining in with the rest of the recruits, cheering Mulan on as she continued her climb.

But then she slipped.

She didn’t fall far -only about two feet- but it was obvious it was hard for her to reclaim her footing. But Mulan kept climbing.

Zhu could feel her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists in anticipation. “You got this,” she quietly said, her voice drowned out amidst the yelling and shouting. “Come on, Mulan…show them how strong you’ve gotten…” She held her breath; Mulan was just a few feet from the arrow…

She released the breath in a shout of joy as Mulan pulled herself up to sit atop the pole. Mulan yanked the arrow from the wood and, with a breathless laughed, tossed it down to the ground. Her timing couldn’t have been better. Shang stepped out right as the arrow sank into the ground just a few feet from his tent.

For the first time, Zhu saw pride in Shang’s eyes.


	13. 13

Zhu was almost startled by how quickly the recruits started improving. Ever since Mulan had retrieved the arrow, it seemed like a second wind had blown through the camp, urging them to push themselves to do better. They were also getting friendlier with one another; almost every training session ended with cheers and pats on the back.

But now, after three more weeks of diligent work and steady improvement, both Mulan and Zhu needed a break. Sneaking away from camp in the middle of dinner, the two women made their way towards the lake to take a much-needed bath. And, because the weather had been so nice, they brought along Umut and Khan so the horses could get some fresh air and peace as well.

“This isn’t a good idea!” Mushu snapped, his ears covering his eyes as the women undressed. “What if somebody sees you!?”

“You say that _every_ time,” Mulan replied, voice dry. “And _every_ time, we’re perfectly fine.”

“You never know!” he snapped. “Those three knuckleheads seem to like hangin’ around you two a lot. How do you know they didn’t follow you down here!?”

“Because they were stuffing their gullets with xiao long bao,” Zhu told him. “I don’t blame them, either -these ones were a _lot_ better tasting than the ones from a few weeks ago.”

Mulan nodded, chuckling. “True. I guess even the cooks are improving!” She giggled at her joke. “But seriously, they _were_ delicious. I almost wish we hadn’t crept off so I could keep eating.”

“There’s still time!” Mushu told her. “Put your pants back on and let’s go! Chop-chop!”

“The temptation for food may be strong,” Mulan told him, “but the _need_ to bathe is stronger. Just because we look like men doesn’t mean we have to _smell_ like them.”

“So some guys don’t rinse out their socks! Picky, picky, _picky_!” He made a small, scornful sound as he scratched his chest. “I, myself, kind of like that corn chip smell.”

Zhu cocked a brow, following Mulan and darting into the lake. “What’s corn…?” A shiver ran down her spine; the water was a nice reprieve from the warm night air. She allowed herself to sink down until her shoulders were submerged, a sigh of relief leaving her mouth.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. It’s something that won’t be here for another six hundred years at _least_.” He flinched as some water landed on him when Mulan flicked her hair back. “Okay! Alright, that’s enough!” he snapped. He then held out a miniature towel towards Mulan. “C’mon, get out before you get all pruny and stuff!”

She cocked a brow. “Mushu, if you’re so worried, why don’t you go stand watch?” she chuckled, starting to wash some grime from her arm. She shook her head as Mushu stomped off, quietly mocking her under his breath.

“Why is he so worried?” Zhu asked her. “He’s not normally like this when we bathe.” She started to scratch a bit of dried blood from her shoulder.

“Since everyone’s starting to get along so well, he’s worried that they’ll try to join us and it’ll blow our cover,” Mulan chuckled. “I keep telling him that you’ve got their schedules figured out and that we’ll be fine.”

Wearing a small smirk, Zhu looked up from her cleaning, intent on replying to her. Instead, however, her eyes widened as she saw three figures racing towards the lake. “Oh _shit_.”

Mulan frowned. Turning, she, too, cursed. Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po were racing towards the lake, stripping off their clothes as they drew ever closer. “We don’t have time to hide!” she hissed, ducking down.

“Get to the deeper water,” Zhu ordered, starting to urge Mulan towards a large rock jutting out of the water. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ling and Yao running into the water. When they were a few yards from shore, Chien-Po hurried towards the edge only to dip a single toe in. He must have judged the water to be a good temperature because he then backed up a few feet before running and jumping.

A squeak left Mulan’s mouth as the wave he created rushed towards them, bringing Yao and Ling even closer. In a futile attempt to hide herself, she grabbed a lily pad and covered her face with it. She stole a quick glance over at Zhu only to frown in confusion; Zhu had gone back to washing herself!

“What are you doing?!” she hissed.

“My chest is less _obvious_ ,” she whispered back. “I’m going to try to distract them long enough for you to get out.”

Before she had the chance to argue, they were being greeted by Yao. “Hey! Ping, Zhu!”

Mulan froze. “Oh—uh, hey guys!” she said in her false voice. “I didn’t see you there!”

Zhu closed her eyes, doing her best to not smack herself on the forehead.

“I was just washing,” Mulan continued, “but I’m clean now, so I’m going to go. Bye-bye!” She darted behind the rock, keeping her chest facing it.

Ling, however swam over on his back. “Come back here!” Zhu was almost impressed at how a single lily pad floated with him, covering himself. It floated away as he righted himself, though. “I know we were jerks to you before, so…let’s start over!” He held his hand out to her, wearing a charming smile. “Hi, I’m Ling!”

As Ling shook her hand, Mulan let out a nervous chuckle, her arm wiggling as he shook her hand. She tried to back up, but Chien-Po had come up from behind.

“And I’m Chien-Po,” he chirped, pulling a lily pad off his head.

“Heh…Hello, Chien-Po,” she replied, voice nervous.

“And _I’m_ Yao!” Everyone looked up only to find Yao standing proudly atop the rock, his hands on his hips and everything hanging free. Mulan quickly looked away, shielding her eyes. “ _King of the Rock!_ And there’s nothin’ you girls can do about!”

Zhu cocked a brow; the elite, sometimes, would pull similar antics when they bathed. She was also surprised to see that Yao’s body was covered mostly by muscle -not by fat, like she had originally thought.

‘Certainly explains why he’s so strong for his size,’ she thought. She looked over at Ling, who was trying to get Mulan to help him ‘fight’ Yao. A frown came to her face; he had hardly any fat and what muscle he had was lean. ‘He could do with a few dozen more xiao long bao or some roasted boar. Though, all _three_ of them seem a bit _girthier_ in certain areas than the Huns…’

“If you get Ping, then I get Zhu!” Yao cackled, drawing her from her thoughts. He grinned, looking over at her. “C’mon, Zhu! Help me out here!”

Her brow rose again; this time, however, she smirked. “If you insist.” She swam over, pretending to get ready to climb the rock. Glancing over at Mulan, she saw that she had swam some distance away.

“HA!” Yao grinned. “Us two _warriors_ are goin’ t’ kick—AH!” He was suddenly shoved forward, off the rock. As he fell into the water, he flailed his arms.

“Now _I’m_ king of the rock,” Zhu said simply, leaning against the rock.

Ling cracked up. “See, Ping?!” He swam after Mulan, grabbing her arm when he caught up to her. “If we work together, we can get the rock for ourselves! It’ll be—YEOUCH!” Spinning around, he rubbed his hindquarters. “Something bit me!”

As he turned back around, Mushu poked his head out of the water. He coughed and spot, disgusted by what he had just done.

“SNAKE!” Ling screamed. He started running back towards the rock.

The distraction Mushu provided was enough for Mulan to safely get out of the water, unseen. Zhu, on the other hand, suddenly found herself trapped against the rock as Yao scrambled up her back to get out of the water.

“Ow! Hey—careful!” she yelped as his foot dug into her side. “Ow, _ow_ —son of a—” A grunt of relief left her mouth when Yao finally crawled off her. It was short-lived, however, as Ling jumped up, clinging onto her as he tried to scramble onto the rock. “Do I _look_ like a spirits-damned stepstool!?”

“How are you not freaking out!?” Yao demanded, helping pull Ling off her back and onto the rock. By now, both he and Chien-Po had managed to get themselves entirely out of the water. “There’s a poisonous snake in the water! _An’ it bit Ling_!”

Once Ling was off her back, she pushed herself away from the rock. Looking up at the three panicked men, she gave them a dry look as she rubbed her sore ribs. “Venomous,” she told them, eyes clenched shut in pain.

They paused, taken aback by her calmness. “…Huh?” Ling questioned.

“Venomous. Snakes are _venomous_ ,” she said, opening an eye. “And _if_ that snake _was_ venomous, then Ling would already be feeling the symptoms.” Inwardly, she smirked. “Does the bite feel itchy?”

“A—A little?” he replied. “It mostly stings!”

“Stings, huh? How bad?”

“A whole lot!”

“And what did the snake look like?”

He shrugged, starting to look even more panicked. “I don’t—I don’t know! I just know it was red and yellow with long whiskers!” He shoved a knuckle in his mouth, starting to worriedly gnaw on it.

By now, Yao and Chien-Po were catching onto Zhu’s joke. They did their best to maintain their worried expressions, though Chien-Po was forced to disguise a giggle as a cough.

“Hm…Red, yellow, and long whiskers…?” A thoughtful, but serious, expression came to her face. “Was there anything else?”

He thought for a moment before quickly nodding. “Horns! It had horns! Two little ones right on top of its head!”

“Oh, spirits, that’s not good,” she murmured. “Were they blue or green?”

His eyes widened in fear. “B-Blue!”

“Are you _certain_ they were blue?”

“Yes!” He lurched forward, gripping onto Yao’s shoulders. “Oh, gods, I’m going to die, aren’t I?! It’s too late to suck the poison out! _I’m going to die_!”

Zhu struggled to hold back her laughter. “Ling, listen to me.” She watched as he looked up, ready to burst into tears. “You were bitten by a _lizard_.” It was almost a struggle to keep her voice emotionless.

His brows furrowed. “A… _lizard_?”

“Yes. A lizard. Snakes _don’t_ have horns _or_ whiskers.”

He then pouted, half-heartedly glaring at her as she started to laugh. “You—you jerk! I really thought I was dying there!” At that, Chien-Po and Yao lost it only to get lightly smacked by him. “And you two were in on it!” He crossed his arms, pouting. “Laughing at my pain…do you know how bad my butt hurts right now?!”

Yao snickered, giving him a playful shove. “Oh, don’t be a baby! It couldn’t have been that bad!”

Zhu cracked up as Ling stood up on the rock, pointing his hindquarters at Yao, showing him the bitemark.

“See?! It’s bad!” he pouted. “I bet it’s all bloody and gross, too!”

“There are hardly any marks,” Chien-Po chuckled.

“He’s just being dramatic,” Yao said, rolling his eyes. He gave Ling a shove, sending him flying into the water.

Rolling her eyes, Zhu grinned. It slowly faded away, though, as she heard Umut squeal from the shore. Turning, her eyes widened in horror yet again.

The _entire_ camp was running towards the lake.

Umut squealed again, rearing back and kicking her forelegs in what Zhu recognized as feigned agitation. When she had been a foal, Umut often pretended to be worried or upset in order to get Zhu to come sleep beside her or to get extra treats. But how she knew to act up _now_ of all times, Zhu didn’t know -horses were smart, yes, but _surely_ they didn’t know when their riders needed an excuse to leave, lest their gender be discovered.

“I’m coming, Umut!” she called, heading for the shore. “I’ll see you later, guys!”

“See ya, Zhu!” Yao called, hopping off the rock before Ling could drag him in.

As she climbed out of the water, Umut came over to her, bearing her towel. She had just wrapped herself up when the first wave of recruits reached the shore. Umut acted as a barrier between Zhu and them, helping to further shield her as she went to retrieve her clothes.

Getting dressed proved to be a bit difficult. She was taller than the grass and reeds around her, forcing her to stoop as she pulled on her shirt and tunic. Her pants were an easier thing to put on, as she was hidden from the waist-down and the entirety of the camp was now in the water.

She had come out of hiding and was making her way back towards the camp, using her fingers to comb through her hair, when she noticed someone unusual walking towards her: Chi-Fu. He was wrapped up in two towels and a pair of silken slippers -and nothing else. It didn’t seem like he had noticed her yet; he was wearing a pleasant smile and humming to himself.

‘This isn’t his night to bathe,’ she thought, a brow rising. ‘Then again, it’s also not the camp’s night to bathe…Everything is just off tonight.’ She stepped into the shadow of a nearby tent, not wanting to be seen by the advisor as she started tying her hair up. ‘But with everyone else down at the lake…’

She glanced over her shoulder, a brow rising as she watched Chi-Fu’s retreating back. ‘The guys seem like they’re going to be down there quite some time…and they’re a bit too boisterous for Chi-Fu to want to take his time. That means there wouldn’t be many people around when he returns…’

Instinctively, she headed for her tent. All she needed to do was grab her knife; truthfully, she could probably snap his neck with little trouble. A death like that, however, would make for a very short suspect list. By using her knife, she’d make Shang suspect at _least_ two dozen different recruits, including her.

She could count the number of people in the camp strong enough to break a neck on one hand.

Stepping into her tent, she was greeted by the low-burning light of her lantern. She went to her bed and, reaching under her pillow, grabbed her dagger. Then, she unsheathed it and flicked her thumb across the blade.

‘Razor sharp as always,’ she told herself, sheathing it once more. ‘Would it leave _too clean_ of a cut, though? I could always say I use it for shaving? No, that wouldn’t work. Trimming leather for Umut’s saddle and bags? That’s a bit more plausible…’

Zhu suddenly shook her head. “No,” she murmured, tossing the knife back down onto her bed. “No…If I did it, then that’d make Mulan a suspect, too. She’s only just gotten everyone’s respect. I won’t ruin that for her.”

A strange sense of anger suddenly welled up in her. Her brows furrowing, she almost started reaching for the dagger, but why? Why was she suddenly so angry at her decision? Mulan was her friend; she didn’t want to put her in danger…

There was a rustle behind her and she spun around to see Mulan standing just a few feet from her. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she seemed to vibrate with an intense excitement. 

“Zhu! Shang _just_ received a letter from his father,” she said, speaking almost too fast for her to understand. “We’ve been called to the front lines!”

She stared at her in shock. “…We…have?”

Mulan nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yeah! Chi-Fu crossed paths with the messenger not even ten minutes ago and—”

“Wait, how do _you_ know all this?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, a sheepish smile came to her lips. “Er…well…I _may_ have done a little eavesdropping when I saw a half-naked Chi-Fu running towards Shang’s tent.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the summoning drum sounded. Both women glanced at the wall of Zhu’s tent, in the direction of the drum. It was louder than normal; Zhu supposed it was so the men down at the lake could hear it over their roughhousing.

“I guess I have no choice but to believe you,” Zhu murmured, growing ever so slightly pale as the drum continued to beat. She looked back at Mulan; she was still smiling and pulsating with excitement. Part of her wanted to scold her and tell her she shouldn’t be looking forward to this, but another part of her understood the feeling.

This would be Mulan’s first -and, hopefully, _only_ \- war. She was young and ignorant to the world of violence and death. She was probably thinking of the glory a victory would bring to her family.

She held her tongue, though. Now wasn’t the time to tell her about the horrors she’d be facing. No. She would do that later, when they were closer to the place of battle. By then, Mulan would be more nervous about what was to come instead of excited. She would need to hear what, exactly, she should expect.

‘Not just her,’ Zhu thought, following Mulan out of the tent. ‘The guys will need to hear it, too. They’ll need to know that they’re not cowards if they freeze up or if they find themselves terrified to actually kill a person. There’s so much they’re going to experience that Shang couldn’t have taught them…’


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late x_x my mom had to go to the ER yesterday (she's back home now and doing a bit better) and my dad's sick, so I've been doing double homecare duty on top of trying to enjoy some game time with my friends. It's...been busy, lol

They left at noon the day after Shang got the letter.

Riding the wave of excitement and eagerness of leaving for war, the soldiers had made good time the first week. Joking and laughing had been in bountiful supply; even Shang joined in with the merriment. When night fell, things quieted down surprisingly fast with the soldiers gathering around multiple campfires and talking in hushed voices about their coming victory in battle.

Zhu hated to admit it, but she was glad she wasn’t around much for the first week because of the jovial attitude of the soldiers. As the most experienced rider, Shang had sent her to scout out the roads ahead in case of a potential ambush. She found little more than weeks-old campfires left by only one or two people and empty roads. A couple of times, though, she did return to the army with a number of rabbits and game fowl for dinner.

By the end of the week, they had marched well over a hundred miles.

And by the beginning of the second week, their excitement had faded.

“My feet are _killing_ me,” Yao groaned, slumping forward as he followed along behind Chien-Po. “I thought we’d be there by now.”

“I’m afraid we have at least another hundred miles before we reach the Tung Shao pass,” Chien-Po sighed. Even he was beginning to grow weary of the endless marching.

“This would be so much faster if we _all_ had horses,” Ling grumbled, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Chi-Fu rode by.

Having heard him, Chi-Fu raised an eyebrow. “ _I_ am an _Imperial_ officer,” he told him. “ _You_ are a mere soldier. If ever you rise up in rank, _then_ you’ll be allowed to ride instead of march.”

“That’s strange,” Zhu commented, a thoughtful look on her face, “because I’m pretty sure Ping and I aren’t officers, yet here we are.” Despite her words, she was walking alongside Umut, giving her a break after that morning’s scouting trip.

Chi-Fu shot her a glare. “ _You_ are our scout and _Ping_ isn’t riding his horse, but walking _alongside_ it,” he snapped. “As you seem to be doing as well.” Before Zhu could reply, he flicked the reins and his gelding trotted off towards the front of the line.

Yao lightly nudged her hip, a tired grin on his face. “Keep that up, he’s going to smack you with his board again someday, kid,” he chuckled.

“I’d like to see him try,” she replied, eyes narrowing as she glared at Chi-Fu’s retreating back Shaking her head, she looked over to Umut, patting the side of her neck. “But Ling’s right. we’d already be at the pass if we were all mounted. I don’t know why we’re not, to be honest. Shan Yu and his army are going to be mounted.”

Ling cocked his brow. “How do you know?” he asked. “I heard they didn’t have horses when they came over the Great Wall.”

“They’re _Huns_ ,” she told him. “They may not have been mounted at the Wall, but they’re surely mounted by now. They grew up on the backs of horses; they wouldn’t _dare_ go to war without them.”

“Horses give an army an enormous advantage,” Chien-Po added. “They give a soldier speed and raise the amount of intimidation the enemy feels at the sight of them. That’s why General Li’s army is mounted on pure-white stallions.”

Zhu cocked her brow, chuckling. “Let’s hope Shan Yu doesn’t have any mares in season; otherwise those stallions are going to be more of an enemy than the Huns.”

“Huh?” Ling asked, brow rising. “What do you mean?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “You’ve never seen a group of stallions around a mare in season?” Ling shook his head. “They try to kill each other in an attempt to mate with the mare. Sometimes, they _do_ kill each other.”

Yao snickered and nudged Mulan. “You better hope Zhu’s horse don’t go into season,” he told her. “Elsewise your horse is goin’ to be fighting it out with Shang’s horse.”

“My money’s on Khan!” Ling grinned.

Chien-Po frowned. “You have no money to place, Ling,” he gently scolded.

He pouted. “I will after we win this war…” he murmured, cheeks turning red as he looked away.

Zhu frowned in confusion. “Wait…we get _paid_ if we survive and win?”

Even Mulan gave her an odd look. “Um…yes?” she answered.

“It’s why so many o’ us _actually_ showed up,” Yao added. “Sure, savin’ China and gaining honor for your family is nice ‘n all, but when you’re like us an’ barely have five yen t’ your name, gettin’ paid is a pretty nice incentive t’ fight.”

Ling’s brow rose. “You really didn’t know that…?”

She felt her cheeks darken. “No, I didn’t,” she admitted. ‘Shan Yu never paid us…’ she thought. ‘Just lets us take whatever we can loot before razing a village. I don’t know which would be more appealing to a person, though…looting could get you more treasure, but getting paid would mean a constant source of money which would be nice.’

“Can’t blame him for not knowin’,” Yao said, drawing her from her thoughts. “He was a mercenary, remember? They’re usually workin’ _against_ the law, so they don’t really know the perks.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Chien-Po gave her a somewhat concerned look. “Every day, it is becoming more and more obvious that we will have much _more_ to teach you than what we originally thought.”

Zhu shrugged, a small and somewhat guilty smile on her lips. “At least I’m a quick study…?” she offered.

“There is that,” Mulan smiled. “And I’m sure there are plenty of things _you_ have left to teach _us_ about being warriors.”

“Ah, what can he teach us that we don’t already know?” Yao grinned, dismissively waving his hand. “Look at us! We’re a group o’ trained warriors! We’re China’s best hope!”

Though the others laughed at his joke, Zhu remained silent. Ling noticed that she wasn’t laughing and looked at her, his own laughter fading slightly when he saw the expression on her face. Pain mixed with determination and anger, giving her a dark look as she glared at the horizon.

“Zhu? Everything okay over there?” he asked.

The group was startled as she suddenly mounted Umut and trotted away. They heard her tell Shang she was going to scout ahead before Umut took off at a gallop.

Yao blinked, glancing at the others. “…Did I say somethin’ wrong?” he asked, shrugging.

“No idea,” Ling said. “He looked kind of upset. Maybe you _did_ say something wrong?”

“I think he had one of his introspective moments,” Chien-Po sighed. “I don’t think it was something you said.”

Mulan let out a sigh. “I wish he’d actually _talk_ to us during one of those moments. They make me worry about him. Well…worry _more_ about him.”

“Give him a break, guys,” Ling frowned. “We’re the first friends Zhu’s had. He’s probably just worrying about us and is scared about how we’re going to do fighting against the Huns—which, truthfully is something we’re _all_ worrying about, even if we don’t want to admit it.” He shrugged, resting his hands on the back of his head as he walked. “He’s not used to having to worry about people other than himself.”

Chien-Po was visibly impressed by his comment. “To be wholly honest, I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he admitted. “I’ve been under the assumption that he believes himself inhuman for not having the same life experiences as us. Sometimes, we certainly make it seem that way…”

“We could, y’know, try _askin’_ him why he gets like that,” Yao hinted. “I don’t think any o’ us have done that before.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Mulan agreed.

“An’ you’re a lot closer to him than we are,” Yao continued, “so why don’t you do the askin’, Ping?”

Her eyes widened. “Me?” she stammered. “You guys have known him longer!”

At that, Ling snickered. “Oh, come on, Ping. Don’t try to hide how close the two of you are,” he gently teased. “We know about the two of you.”

Mulan’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “Wh-what!? I don’t know what you’re talking about! There’s _nothing_ about the two of us!” Had they really come to learn about hers and Zhu’s real gender…?

A sly grin came to Yao’s face as Chien-Po sighed, shaking his head. “Mmhmm,” he teased. “That’s why the two of yous are always bathin’ together an’ talking with your heads so close together…Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Ping.”

She clenched her jaw shut in horror, saying nothing.

Yao nudged her in the side. “We know ‘bout the two of you _lovebirds_ ,” he practically giggled. “I’m just surprised no one’s actually _caught_ the two of you yet! You two have got t’ be really quiet or somethin’…”

Mulan relaxed; she felt both relieved and horrified. They really thought she and Zhu were _together_?! She almost started laughing at the notion.

“Zhu and I _aren’t_ together,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “We’re just good friends.”

Ling had a skeptical look as he glanced over at her. “‘Just good friends’, eh?” he repeated. “The two of you seem awfully close for _just_ friends.”

She gave him a bland look. “Says the one who was practically begging _his_ friends to suck poison from his butt-cheek,” she replied, voice dry.

His face turned bright red. “You know about that!?” he cried. As Yao and Chien-Po started laughing, he pouted.

“Zhu was laughing his head off when he was telling me about it.” Rolling her eyes, she chuckled. “My point is, just because we’re close friends doesn’t make us boyfriends. I mean, look at you three! You’re close friends, but no one goes around claiming _you_ three are boyfriends.”

Chien-Po nodded in acquiesce. “He has a point,” he told Yao and Ling. “And the one time someone _did_ insinuate that Qi was Yao’s boyfriend, Yao beat them up.”

“That’s ‘cause the guy was an asshole,” Yao frowned, cracking his knuckles at the memory. “He was makin’ fun of all of us. ‘Specially you. Couldn’t let him get away with that.” He then shrugged. “Ah, well. Our mistake then. Should have known better, anyway, what with all that tea I found in Zhu’s tent awhile back…”

Mulan, Ling, and Chien-Po all wore quizzical looks as they stared at him.

“…Tea?” Ling repeated, brow slowly rising. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Not just plain ol’ tea,” Yao said, a sheepish grin coming to his lips. “ _Anti-pregnancy_ tea. And _lots_ of it. _He_ tried to say it was just for headaches, but no one has that much tea unless they’ve frequently got a lady or two t’ warm their beds for the night.”

“Like _you_ would know,” Ling snorted. “You can hardly say ‘hello’ to a girl without turning into a stammering mess!”

Yao glared at him. “Hey! You know _damn_ well I’m the only one of us who’s actually shared my bed with a woman!”

“Only because you stole her from me!”

“No, I _wooed_ her away from Qi!”

Closing her eyes, Mulan shook her head and sighed. “Can we please change the subject…?”

“For the love of the gods, _please_ let us have a change in subject,” Chien-Po agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey. Brought you some food.”

Opening an eye, Zhu glanced up as Mulan sat down beside her, holding out a bowl of soup. “Thanks,” she said, taking it. Shifting her position, she leaned back against the tree with one leg propped up.

Four more days had passed, bringing them into the foothills that would take them to the Tung Shao Pass. If the weather remained good, they could reach the pass in just two days. However, the eagerness for battle had completely faded by now; the army was left feeling weary and almost resentful at the lack of action.

That is, until Zhu had come back from her evening scouting trip.

She had found signs of both Hun and Chinese activity a few miles up the road. Pits where campfires had been made had been left uncovered and animal bones from the two armies’ meals littered the ground in some places. She had even found a bow and quiver, left forgotten by one of the Huns.

“How was your nap?” Mulan asked before shoving some pork into her mouth.

“Never really happened.” She blew on a spoonful of steaming broth. “Too much on my mind. Are the guys still in line for food or…?”

“Nah, they’re bathing. They’ll be back soon though.” She made a pleased sound as she drank some broth straight from the bowl. “I heard you found signs of activity ahead of us?”

She nodded, sipping from her spoon. “Mhm. Both Huns and Chinese. We’re getting close. The freshest horse droppings were, at _most_ , two days old. The oldest ones are about two weeks old. Judging by the sizes, the Chinese army was here first.” She glanced up once more as a few more soldiers joined them around the campfire. Getting a spoonful of vegetables, she gently blew on them to cool them down a bit.

“How can you tell how old they are?” Mulan asked, her head slightly tilted.

“Many ways. Mostly, how dry they are and how much they smell. The fresher they are, the stronger they smell and the wetter they are.”

Mulan cringed at the thought. “Please tell me you can tell how wet they are just by looking at them…” She ignored the quiet chuckles from the other soldiers.

“Sometimes, but since it was getting dark, I felt them. _Yes_ , I washed my hands afterwards.” She chewed on some vegetables, her brow rising as she saw the disgusted look on Mulan’s face. “You know, horse droppings can be useful things. You can use them as fuel for fire, you can use them to help build houses-”

“That’s…disgusting,” Mulan murmured. “We only ever used them for fertilizer.”

“It’s pretty obvious you’re from the upper class, Ping,” one of the other soldiers, named Enlai, said. Zhu had spoken with him a couple of times; he had shown the greatest promise during archery training. “In my village, we use animal droppings for more than just fertilizer.” The soldier beside him nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Zhu couldn’t remember exactly, but was fairly certain he was called Guangli. “Like Zhu said, we use them for fuel. We don’t live near any forests, so wood can be pretty hard to come by at times. It may stink, but using droppings is what keeps us warm.”

Blinking, Mulan slowly set her spoon back down in her bowl. “Really?” she asked, her head tilting in a curious fashion. She barely glanced up when Chien-Po came over and sat beside her. “What else can you do with them?”

Enlai chuckled and rolled his eyes. “A lot of things. And not just the droppings, either. Urine can be used, too! Ever wonder how animal skin gets so soft after being removed from the animal?”

At that, Mulan cringed and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “You’re kidding!”

“He’s not,” Zhu told her, a bit of a smile on her lips. “You seem quite surprised by all this.”

“Ah, can’t blame him,” Guangli grinned, poking around in his bowl of soup. “He’s the son of the great Fa Zhou.” At that, Mulan’s cheeks darkened. “He doesn’t have to deal with the same problems as us poor folk.”

Zhu’s brow rose. “Fa Zhou…?” she repeated.

Guangli raised a brow, still grinning. “You’ve really never heard of Fa Zhou?”

She shook her head, drinking some broth straight from the bowl.

“Fa Zhou was a great warrior in the Emperor’s army,” Chien-Po started, “so great, he was almost granted the title of ‘general’. But he sustained a horrible injury that left him unable to fight anymore.”

Zhu noticed that Mulan’s cheeks were still dark red and she was staring, rather sadly, into her bowl of soup.

“How’d he get the injury?” Enali asked. “I never learned that part.”

“He killed Shan Yu’s brother,” Mulan spoke, her voice quiet, “and retrieved the Empress from his hold.”

Everyone looked at Zhu as she suddenly started choking on her soup. Mulan reached over, patting her heartily on the back to help her out.

“You okay?” she asked.

Zhu nodded, though her eyes were shut in pain; the sudden coughing agitated her ribs and both her throat and nose now burned thanks to the soup. “You-your father _killed_ Shan Da?!” she wheezed.

“Ye-yeah,” Mulan answered, her cheeks still red. “Now you can understand why I’m so hung up about bringing honor to my family…” She half-heartedly smiled.

Zhu stared at her, her eyes still wide. Everyone seemed to take it as awe, but her stomach started twisting itself into knots.

‘I’ve…I’ve become friends with the daughter of the man who _killed_ my parents…’ she thought, finally forcing herself to look away. Her eyes instead fixed themselves on the fire. Her jaw clenched itself; in the back of her mind, she could hear her mother’s screaming.

For the first time since leaving Moo-Shung camp, Zhu felt the sudden surge of anger and strength course through her. She found herself wanting to reach out and hurt Mulan—to hurt everyone around her as they continued praising Fa Zhou. But she wouldn’t let that happen.

No.

Mulan _wasn’t_ her father. Zhu wouldn’t hold her accountable for his actions.

“Still in awe over there, Zhu?” Enlai asked, tossing an unwanted mushroom at her to grab her attention.

Coming out of her thoughts, she let out a small chuckle. “Ye-yeah,” she said. “Fa Zhou did a great service, so I’m surprised Ping here is his son.” As the anger started to fade, she lightly nudged Mulan in the way she had seen Ling nudge Yao. “I’m sure he’ll live up to such high expectations, though.”

Mulan blinked, staring at her for a minute before smiling. “…You really think so?”

“Of course I do.” The words were said with total honesty and Zhu found herself more than a little relieved about that.

“You do what?” Yao and Ling had come over and were situating themselves around the fire.

“He thinks Ping is destined for great honor,” Chien-Po answered before slurping some noodles into his mouth.

Yao snickered. “’Course the kid is. He’s part of _Shang’s_ army. We’re _all_ destined for great honor. An’ we’ll get it after we kick Shan Yu’s butt!”

At that, the other men grinned broadly and heartily agreed with him. Even Mulan laughed in agreement.

Zhu slowly looked over the small group. Six of the seven of them were positive that they were going to be absolutely _astounding_ warriors. That they were going annihilate Shan Yu and his army.

But she knew better. She knew how severely outnumbered they were. She knew most of them, if not _all_ of them, were marching towards certain death. And part of her wanted to warn them of that, to let them know that everything they were thinking was wrong…but another part of her told her to wait. To let them continue being filled with hope and vigor.

‘Later,’ she told herself, drinking more broth straight from the bowl. ‘Let them have this. They need this happiness before they find out the truth.’


	15. 15

The morning air was crisp; it felt like winter was on its way. But as Zhu and Umut rode up the mountain path, they knew winter was still half a year off. In all their snowcapped glory, the mountains were stubborn and refused to warm up like the rest of the world.

‘That’s fine,’ Zhu thought, ducking as Umut passed under some low-hanging branches. ‘These clothes keep me warm enough and Umut is hardy enough to survive a winter on the Mongolian steppes. This chilly air is nothing for her.’

They had traveled nearly three miles away from the main army when Umut slowed her pace, her ears twitching as she listened to the sounds around them. Zhu somewhat narrowed her eyes and began to carefully inspect the forest around them. Around them was an eerie silence; no birds sang, no squirrels foraged for food, and no deer tiptoed their way through the undergrowth.

Slowly, so as to not make a sound, she unslung her bow from her shoulder and drew some arrows from her quiver. Her timing couldn’t have been better. To her left, a branch snapped.

She had an arrow nocked and drawn back, ready to fire, within seconds. She loosed the arrow, hearing it cut through vegetation. Someone swore in the distance, making her smirk.

“Show yourselves!” she called out, her voice ringing through the still air. Nocking a second arrow, she waited. “Or are you too cowardly to face a single rider?”

Soon, two men and a woman came walking out of the underbrush. Each one had a hand on their sword, ready to fight if the need arose—though they didn’t look like much. The men were short and lean with hard faces. The woman was taller and curvy with a nose that was crooked from being broken multiple times.

Zhu knew these people. They were some of Shan Yu’s best hunters and had helped teach her how to hunt when she was younger.

“An imperial scout!” one of the men, Matija, cried. “Kill him before he gets away!”

Zhu’s eyes narrowed and she furrowed her brows. In a flash, she had a second arrow drawn and aimed at Matija’s head. “I _dare_ you to draw your sword against me, Matija,” she hissed.

His eyes widened in fear and his hand dropped away from the sword hilt. “Sh-Shan Zhu!” he squeaked, falling to his knees. He folded his fist over his heart, his head bowed. “For-Forgive me! I did not recognize you!”

The other two followed his example and knelt before her. “You wear the armor of our enemy, Shan Zhu,” the other man, Zartosht, spoke. “Please forgive us for mistaking you as one.”

Her brow rising, Zhu eased her bow before tucking the arrows back into her quiver. “You are forgiven— _this time_.” Hooking the end of her bow around the pommel of her saddle, she dismounted. “Why are you three here? Surely, my uncle should be near the Imperial City by now?” As she spoke, she made sure her voice bore the full weight of her position.

“He isn’t,” the woman, Ghoncheh, told her, daring to lift her head. “Not _yet_ , at least. The Imperial army has been giving us trouble—it’s as if we’re playing a game of cat-and-mouse with them.”

“We have yet to come into direction confrontation with them,” Zartosht continued, “but only because Shan Yu is trying to get us the upper hand. In this mountainous terrain, though, it’s been difficult. The size of our army makes stealth all but impossible.”

“B-But the size of the Emperor’s army is proving to be a challenge for them, as well!” Matija said, his voice still shaky.

Zhu nodded in understanding. “How far away is my uncle now?” she demanded, setting her hands on her hips. Despite her outward calmness, her insides were jittery and nervous.

She wished she had come across a group of lesser Huns—ones who were nothing more than nameless soldiers to her. Not ones she knew, let alone ones who had helped train her to become a killer.

“Shan Yu is half a day’s ride from here,” Ghoncheh answered. “At least, he was when he sent us to scout out the Imperial army.” Her head tilted slightly to the side. “Forgive me, Shan Zhu, but weren’t you instructed to go straight to the Imperial City when you had completed your task?”

Zhu cocked a brow, a less-than-amused expression on her face. “And just _where_ do you think I was going?” she asked, voice dry. “The fastest way to the Imperial City is through the Tung Shao Pass.” She twisted her wrists ever so slightly and a weight from within her sleeve slipped down into her palm. “From the sounds of it, however, it seems I’ll be joining my uncle on the battlefield.”

She watched as the three hunters perked at her words.

“That’s wonderful!” Zartosht grinned. “Shan Yu has been in a foul mood these last few weeks; having you back at his side will surely brighten him up!”

Her brow rose. “A foul mood?” she repeated.

Ghoncheh nodded. “Horribly foul.”

“We—we think he’s growing impatient,” Matija said. “It’s been nearly four months since we’ve invaded China and there is so little to show for it. We’ve ransacked a few villages, but what good are villages when it’s the throne he wants?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “But, there’s only one village left between here and the Imperial city—and it’s more than likely burning to the ground as we speak.” He snickered at the thought.

Zhu’s eyes widened. “There’s a village _this_ far up in the mountains?”

“No—even _further_ ,” Zartosht replied, motioning to the peaks above them. “It’s where Shan Yu is now; half a day’s ride from here.” He frowned, his brow rising slightly when he saw Zhu’s skin grow a bit pale. “…Is everyone alright, Shan Zhu? You look as if you’re going to be sick.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m just…a bit taken aback by this news. I wasn’t aware that there was a village up here.” Her insides writhed with uneasiness, but her mind was quickly filling with anger. How could they be so amused by so much death…?

Had she really been as heartless as them?

Ghoncheh chuckled, giving her companions a small nudge. “Not _anymore_ , there isn’t,” she smirked. “Like Matija said, it’s probably nothing more than ashes by now. Shame we got to miss out on the fun.” She then frowned; Zhu’s eyes had become filled with a bitter anger. “Sh-Shan Zhu…?”

“Thank you for telling me all of this,” Zhu said, fingers deftly spinning the pair of daggers around. “Captain Shang will find it _very_ helpful.”

Before the hunters could react, she lunged forward.

 

~*~

 

“We’ve been marchin’ so long, it’s startin’ t’ feel like we’re a thundering herd of cattle,” Yao grumbled, kicking a rock out of his way as he headed for the riverbank.

It was near midday and the army had found itself having to cross a wide river -something _none_ of the soldiers were looking forward to. With no other choice besides desertion, however, they begrudgingly untied their sword belts and prepared themselves to enter the frigid water.

“And like the beating of our feet on the ground, my aching feet aren’t easy to ignore,” Chien-Po sighed. He reached down, keeping a hold of the back of Yao’s armor in case the water grew too deep.

Mulan sighed, squinting her eyes as she looked up at the sky. “At least it’ll only be a few more hours until it’s nightfall,” she said. “Then we’ll get some rest.” She shivered as she felt the water beginning to flood into her boots.

“‘A few hours’?” Yao grumbled. “Kid, we’ve got _half a day_ until nighttime.”

“You guys need to lighten up!” Ling chirped from behind them. “This isn’t so bad! In fact, compared to our training marches, this has been pretty relaxing!”

Chien-Po and Yao glanced back at him, confused looks on their faces. “He must be delirious from a lack of sleep,” Chien-Po said, his tone betraying his worry.

“Nah…Ling was always the head of the class when it came to marchin’, remember?” Yao told him. “His noodle legs mean he takes half the number’a steps we take.”

At that, Ling pouted. “That isn’t true!” he scoffed. “ _I’m_ just trying to stay positive. And I have a _wonderful_ way of doing it!”

“And what would that be?” Mulan asked, her brow rising. She felt the front of her jaw beginning to shake thanks to the cold of the river and suddenly she wished they were back to marching through the warm plains.

“I’ll _show_ you once we’re out of the water,” he replied, his voice almost sing-song. “I don’t want to ruin it by showing it to you in the water.”

Yao and Chien-Po looked at one another, their brows lifted in confusion. Mulan merely quickened her pace; she just wanted to get out of the water as quick as possible.

When they reached the opposite bank, they squeezed the water out of their armor and dumped it from their boots. They were in the middle of stamping on the ground and rubbing their arms in a futile attempt to warm themselves when they heard a shout from further up the line. Chien-Po straightened up and, shielding his eyes from the sun, peered into the distance.

“Ah, Zhu has returned,” he told the other three. “Hm. He has a bag with him. I wonder if he was able to hunt down a few more rabbits?”

“I hope he did,” Yao grumbled, having to readjust his breastplate and pauldrons. “That rabbit stew the other night was the best food we’ve had since we left Moo-Shung.”

“True,” Chien-Po said, nodding in agreement. “I’m afraid the cooks haven’t had much fresh ingredients to work with…If only Zhu knew how to hunt down herbs and roots as well as he can hunt down rabbits.” He let out a longing sigh.

Ling rolled his eyes, though he wore a grin. “Aw, c’mon. Zhu can’t be good at _everything_. And give the cooks some slack! They’re trying their best with what ingredients they’ve got.”

“I have to agree with Ling,” Mulan shrugged. “It’s not like the cooks have been feeding us gruel or rotten meat. The food’s actually been pretty good.”

“Chien-Po’s just a snob when it comes t’ food,” Yao joked. “He’d rather be one’a the cooks instead o’ one of us soldiers.”

Chien-Po frowned, a hurt look on his face. “While you are right about me preferring to be a cook than a soldier, that doesn’t mean I am not honored to serve our Emperor.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Yao bit his lower lip, a guilty look coming to his face. “I meant that you’d be cookin’ us good meals _all_ the time if you were one o’ the army cooks because you _would_ be heading out to scout out herbs an’ roots an’ stuff.”

“You got to admit he’s got a point there, Chien-Po,” Ling chuckled. “You’ve done it before.”

Mulan cocked her head. “He has…?”

Chien-Po’s cheeks turned bright red. “He is referring to when we were younger and still living at the temple…I was dissatisfied with the blandness of the food we were given, so…” He looked away guiltily. “I may have snuck out and taken some herbs from the temple garden and then snuck them into that night’s dinner.”

Yao and Ling both cracked up. “He felt so bad for taking those herbs!” Yao laughed. “The poor thing had to skip meditation for a few days because he kept thinking about it and it kept him from achieving peace.”

Ling patted Chien-Po on the back despite still laughing. “The poor guy thought they were going to throw him out of the temple for stealing some coriander, ginger, and licorice. He did extra chores for a whole week in hopes of staying on the monks’ good side.”

Chien-Po’s face -and his ears and the top of his head- were bright red by now. “I was seven,” he stated, his voice bearing the weight of his embarrassment. “ _Everyone_ has their moments of overreaction when they are that age!”

“I’ve clearly missed out on an interesting conversation.”

The four looked up in surprise; Zhu was walking towards them. Umut walked alongside her, the bag now missing from her side.

“Yao and Ling were just tormenting Chien-Po by making him relive embarrassing moments from their childhood,” Mulan told her, a small smile on her lips.

“Oh? Normally, it’s Ling who’s being embarrassed.” She reached over, patting Umut’s neck.

Mulan’s smile faded somewhat. There was a bit of dried blood on the side of Zhu’s neck. It wasn’t enough to be noticeable to most people, but she had developed a habit of looking Zhu over carefully, especially during one of her quiet moments. She was about to pull her off to the side and ask what had happened, but she was suddenly brought out of her thoughts as Yao accidentally bumped into her.

“Hey, Ling! You said you were goin’ to show us how you were stayin’ so positive!” he said, trying to catch up with Ling. “Oops! Sorry, Ping!”

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. She watched as Ling looked around to make sure Chi-Fu and Shang were out of hearing range. Then, he reached beneath his breastplate and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

Zhu cocked her brow. She was about to ask what was on the paper when, with a flick of his wrist, Ling unfurled it. Her brows furrowed in confusion. On the paper was an ink drawing of a beautiful woman coquettishly hiding her face behind a fan. Her clothing had been painted to be form fitting and somewhat sheer in place.

“This, my friends, is how I stay positive,” he told them, a dreamy look on his face and longing in his voice.

“…A picture of a woman?” Mulan questioned, her brow raised.

Ling almost looked offended. “No!” he pouted. “This isn’t just a _picture_ of a woman. Oh, no, no, _no._ This, my friends, is the girl of my dreams! _This_ is a girl _worth_ fighting for!”

“Huh?” Zhu questioned, taking the picture from him to get a better look. Beside the women were Chinese characters, though she couldn’t read them.

“That’s what I said,” he told her. “A girl worth fighting for!” A wistful sigh left his mouth as he took the picture back from her. “I want her paler than the moon with eyes that shine like stars…”

“You’re such a daydreamer. No girl is goin’ to look like that—at least, any girl _you’d_ be able t’ get would. Only royalty has skin that pale.” Yao blew a raspberry and dismissively waved his hand in the air. “I have more realistic expectations of my future wife. _My_ girl will marvel at my strength and adore my battle scars!”

“I couldn’t care less what she’ll wear or what she looks like,” Chien-Po joined in. “It all depends on what she cooks like: Beef, pork, chicken—mmm!”

Zhu and Mulan glanced at one another, both suddenly feeling _highly_ out of place. Yao nudged them both and they looked down at him, wary of what he was going to say.

“Bet the local girls thought you two were quite the charmers,” he grinned. He gave Zhu a knowing wink, making her cheeks grow dark.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” she mumbled, moving away from him. She glanced over at Mulan who had paused in her steps, allowing the three men to get ahead of her.

Ling chuckled. “When we reach the Imperial City after our victory, just imagine all the girls that’ll flock to us!” A silly grin came to his face as he pretended to flex his arm muscles. “I bet the ladies _love_ a man in armor!”

Yao suddenly puffed out his chest in a proud fashion. “The girls there will think I have no faults!” he declared. He stopped for a moment, letting Mulan -begrudgingly- catch up with him.

“And they will think I’m a major find!” Chien-Po smiled, also waiting for Mulan.

She let out a quiet groan as the three men all stared at her, anticipation on their faces as they waited to hear about her dream woman. “Uh…How ‘bout a girl who’s got a brain?” she suggested. “And who always speaks her mind…?” She smiled innocently and shrugged only to get looks of disgust from her friends. A small curse left her mouth as Ling suddenly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“Ping, Ping, _Ping_. We know you like to think a _little_ outside the box,” he began, “but _come on_! The kind of girl you just described is someone your _parents_ would want you to marry.” He let out another laugh. “You can tell us what kind of girl you _really_ want—we won’t tell!” He gave her a playful wink, oblivious to how uncomfortable he was making her. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Zhu. “I bet Zhu here will tell us what kind of girl _he_ likes!”

Zhu’s brow rose ever so slightly. “No,” she said, voice dry.

He blinked, a bit taken aback. “Uh…” He then let out a nervous laugh and turned his attention back to Mulan. “Anyway! Like Yao said, I bet the two of you were charmers back in your home towns! How could the ladies _not_ be throwing themselves at your feet?” He let out another laugh, this one more at ease. “My manly ways and turn of phrase are sure to thrill any girl I meet!”

Ducking out of his grip, Mulan shook her head, a half-hearted smile on her lips. Before she could reply, however, Yao grabbed her by the scarf and pulled her down to his level.

“He thinks he’s such a lady-killer,” he said, his voice just loud enough for both Mulan and Ling to hear.

Ling pouted, though Mulan started giggling.

As Yao released her scarf, Mulan waited up for Zhu. The two women were thankful when the three men continued to walk ahead of them, continuing their conversation about women among themselves.

“That…was so awkward,” Mulan murmured, her voice just loud enough for Zhu to hear. She looked over at Zhu. “You’re lucky they didn’t pressure you like they did me!”

She shrugged. “This was mild compared to the conversations I’m _used_ to hearing about women,” she said. “This was almost _refreshing_.”

Mulan’s brow rose. “I…won’t ask.” Letting out a sigh, she glanced up, trying to see the position of the sun through the trees. Her cheeks then turned a little pink. “…Zhu? Have you, uh, ever been in a relationship before?”

“No.” Tilting her head, she scratched the side of her neck. “I’ve never even _thought_ about romance, to be honest. It’s just—it’s just not something you think about when you’re a mercenary.”

She nodded in understanding. “Makes sense.”

“Have you?”

Mulan’s cheeks grew even redder. “No,” she admitted. “I’ve…I’ve _liked_ a few men throughout my life, but they never felt the same.”

Zhu’s brow rose. “Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po like you.”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

“They like you,” she repeated. “They’re your friends, right? So that means they like you.”

Mulan stared at her for a minute before giggling. “Not _that_ kind of ‘like’, silly!” she laughed.

Mushu’s head suddenly poked out from under her scarf. “Zhu, honey, there’s a _big_ difference between friendship ‘liking’ and romantic ‘liking’,” he told her. “Friendship ‘liking’ is wanting to hang out, tell jokes, and maybe get into a few bar fights with someone. Romantic ‘liking’ is wanting to kiss, marry, and have children with someone.”

“Essentially, the romantic sort if ‘liking’ a person is how Mulan likes Shang?” Zhu questioned.

Mulan stared at her in horror, her cheeks beet red. She glanced down at Mushu, who was clearly extremely amused by Zhu’s words. “Wh-what?!” she squeaked. “Who—Whoever said I felt _that_ way about _Shang_ of all people!?”

“No one,” Zhu replied, “but it’s obvious you do.”

“How!?”

Mushu gave her a bored look. “Honey, you get all googly eyed around him,” he told her, voice bland. “I mean, if Miss Clueless-to-Social-Norms here can tell you’re head-over-heels for the guy, then _anyone_ can.”

Zhu shook her head, frowning somewhat. “No, she doesn’t get that way. She does, however, get more nervous around him—especially when he’s shirtless—than she does around the other men. Whenever he compliments her, she tends to blush a bit and she has a habit of biting her lower lip. Sometimes, when we’re watching him demonstrate something, she’ll also let out a quiet, almost longing, sigh.”

Mulan and Mushu stared at her. “How do you notice all of _that_?” Mushu demanded. “I mean, I keep a close eye on my girl here, but even _I_ didn’t know she did most of that!”

“I’m observant,” she answered simply.

“Do you…do you think Shang’s noticed any of it?” Mulan asked, voice quiet and worried.

Zhu shook her head. “No. He’s usually too busy teaching or being annoyed by Chi-Fu to pay attention to small things like that.” She gave her a small smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I think he may feel the same about you? I’ve noticed he watches you the closest during training, even _after_ you got that arrow. And you make him smile more than anyone else.”

She looked shocked. “R-really?” she stammered.

“Yes. Even now, I’ve seen him watching you with fondness when we make camp at night.”

Mulan said nothing, though she bit her lower lip and smiled slightly.

 

~*~

 

“Peizhi said he heard the captain and Chi-Fu talking about some village near the pass.”

“Oh? What’d he hear?”

“That the Huns may have already reached it. The captain’s worried that the general may need our help more than we originally thought.”

“That’d explain why he made us march after sundown.”

“Guowei said he heard them talking about the village being burnt down.”

“You guys _do_ know that Zhu’s right here, right? He’s the scout. _He_ can tell you what _he_ told Shang.” Ling shoved a bite of congee into his mouth, his brow raised as he looked at the other soldiers.

The other soldiers -Mengyao, Enlai, Qiqang, and Weizhe- shrank back, each one wearing guilty expression as they were caught gossiping.

Yao snickered. “I think they’re too scared of Zhu t’ ask him,” he said, giving Ling a nudge.

“It’s not me they should be afraid of,” Zhu told him, using her spoon to scrape the last bits of congee from her bowl. “What Peizhi and Guowei overheard was fairly accurate.” She shoved her spoon in her mouth before reaching for her water-skin. “I don’t know how much of what you heard about the village was true, though. The only thing I know for certain is that there was no smoke in the sky.”

Mengyao was the first of the four to speak again. “…So, we really are close to finding the Huns?”

She nodded.

“How—how do you know all that, though?” Qiqang asked. “Did you find the Hun army?”

“No. But I found three of their scouts.” She took a long drink from the skin, ignoring the wide-eyed stares she was receiving.

Weizhe swallowed hard. “You…you did?”

She nodded once more. “They’re no longer among the living.”

Mulan bit her lower lip. ‘That explains the dried blood on her neck earlier…’ she thought. ‘She had to _kill_ people…’

“Ah, we already know we’re going to kick their butts,” Yao suddenly said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Between us and General Li's army, the Huns don’t stand a chance!”

There were a few chuckles of agreement, though most of the men around them remained quiet.

“They are merely nervous,” Chien-Po told him, voice soft as he wiped some grains of rice from his lips. “They’re always this way at night. They will feel better when the morning comes.”

Ling frowned. “Come on, guys! We’ve been trained by the second-best warrior in the whole of China and we’re about to join up with the army led by the _best_ warrior in the whole of China!” he cried, trying to cheer them up. “We _will_ kick some Hun butt!” He then looked at Mulan, Zhu, and Chien-Po, hoping they would help him encourage the others.

But they avoided his gaze.

“They have every right to be nervous,” Zhu said after some minutes. She refused to look up; instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the ground. “This isn’t going to be a training exercise where we have to cut open straw dummies or shoot cannons at a target painted in the dirt. This is going to be _real_ and this is going to be _terrifying_. You’ll head in, thinking you’re as prepared as can be only to find out just how _wrong_ you are. There is _nothing_ you can do to stop the fear that’s going to grab hold of you and root you to the spot when that sea of Huns comes riding at you.”

Enali swallowed hard, but managed to speak up. “I thought…I thought you were just a mercenary? They’re just paid to kill certain people, right? But you sound like you’ve actually fought in wars…”

Zhu let out a heavy sigh and forced herself to meet his gaze. “How else do you think the rich get people to fight their wars? A person who lives on the street without a yen to their name would jump at the opportunity to earn enough money to keep food in their belly for a few weeks. Even if it means they might get killed.”

There was silence for a moment. It was soon broken, however, as Mengyao found his voice.

“What—what else can we expect?” he asked, voice hushed. For some reason, it felt… _wrong_ to speak at normal volume.

“Do you _really_ want to know?”

Many of the men nodded; she was surprised to see Mulan and Yao among them. Setting her bowl aside, she closed her eyes.

“Fear is the strongest thing you’re going to feel,” she began. “It’s going to grip you and keep hold of you. No matter how hard you fight it, it won’t go away. Some of you will wet yourselves because of it. Others will find themselves crying. But there is no shame in being frightened—this is your first battle and it is going to be against an army numbering in the _thousands_.”

She opened her eyes only to find everyone staring at her. She swallowed hard; she didn’t like having all this attention fixed on her. It was never something she had enjoyed. Even if she was being praised, too much attention made her feel fidgety.

“Then there is the carnage,” she continued. “There _will_ be blood. There _will_ be vomit. The ground will be covered in it. You’ll see severed limbs and bodies without heads and bodies with their guts laying beside them. You’ll get covered in blood—whether it’s the enemy’s blood or your own, you won’t be able to tell.

“But all that is going to pale in comparison to knowing you just _killed_ a human being for the first time. Because no matter how much you want to believe them to be monsters, the Huns are human. Just like you and just like me. They bleed the same shade of red as you and as me. They have families and friends and loved ones just like us.”

Zhu let out a heavy sigh, pausing for a moment to rub her face. She suddenly felt extremely tired; she didn’t want to be telling them this. At the same time, though, she knew they _had_ to be told. She didn’t want them to go into battle blind. Her friends, especially.

They deserved to know what kind of hell they would face.

Qiqang rubbed the back of his neck. “If they’ve got families, why are they fighting us, then?” he asked. “We’re fighting to protect our families _from_ them. But as far as we know, Shan Yu just wants to conquer China. It doesn’t make sense that they’d risk their lives just for the sake of conquering another country.”

At that, Zhu’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You…really don’t know why Shan Yu is attacking China?”

Most of the men shook their heads.

To Zhu’s surprise, it was Mulan who answered. “Shan Yu isn’t attacking _just_ because he wants to conquer China,” she started. “He’s attacking because the Huns were forced to leave their ancestral homeland by a previous emperor.”

Zhu nodded in agreement. “With no homes to call their own, they became nomadic peoples and broke into many, many tribes. Attila was the first Hun who managed to reunite the tribes—for a time. After his death, though, they started to fall apart once more. But then, Shan Yu and Shan Da came along.”

Yao gave her an odd look. “You sure know a lot ‘bout Hun history, kid,” he said.

She managed to hide the fear she suddenly felt. “You learn things when you’re a mercenary,” she replied with a shrug.

Chien-Po lightly smacked Yao atop the head with his spoon. “If you had paid attention during our lessons, you would have known all of this,” he scolded. “It is fairly common knowledge.”

“It is?” Ling asked, brow rising. “Because I don’t remember hearing about _any_ of this during our lessons.”

Both Yao and Chien-Po gave him dry looks. “That’s because you _slept_ during lessons,” they said in unison, earning a bit of laughter from the other soldiers.

His cheeks turned red. “Not _all_ the time! I stayed awake long enough to hear _some_ things about Attila.” His face then brightened. “Speaking of which, I know an _excellent_ joke involving Attila!”

Yao smacked a hand over his face. “Gods, please no…” he murmured.

Chien-Po said nothing, though he let out a heavy sigh.

“Let’s hear it!” Weizhe chirped. “We could use a good laugh about now!”

Zhu cocked a brow; what kind of joke would involve the legendary Attila the Hun? He had been one of the world’s greatest leaders. She could think of nothing funny about that.

But then she heard Ling’s joke.

“What does Attila say when he comes home from war?” Ling questioned, an eager grin on his lips. He waited a few seconds before saying the punch line. “HUN! I’m home!”

The joke earned groans from Yao and Chien-Po, though the rest snickered and chuckled in appreciation. To everyone’s great surprise, though, Zhu started laughing— _hard_.

She laughed so hard, in fact, she tumbled backwards off the log she was sitting on and _kept_ on laughing.

Ling blinked, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “Uh…Zhu? You okay down there?” he asked cautiously, leaning over. He wasn’t the only one; Mulan and Chien-Po were staring at her with great concern.

They had never seen her laugh so hard.

It was _almost_ scary.

She nodded as she wiped some tears from her eyes. “That—That was—That joke was so _bad_!” she cackled. By now, her ribs were on fire, but she just couldn’t stop laughing. “‘ _Hun, I’m home!’_ Sp-spirits help me, that was _awful_!”

Ling wasn’t sure if he should feel proud or insulted about managing to make her laugh like this. Regardless, as he rubbed the back of his neck, he managed a small grin. “Well, at least it cheered _someone_ up.”


	16. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains relatively graphic depictions of dead bodies as well as death. It is not a happy chapter. Please read with discretion.

Shang woke them before sunrise. Their breakfast was short and tasteless, consisting of dried rations and plain water. Then it was time to march, and in double-time. After Zhu’s report the previous day, Shang didn’t want to waste any more time.

When the sun started to rise over the mountains, they had already been marching for nearly an hour and a half. The forest was thinning out and what trees were left were large, their tops heavy with snow. As they marched, the frozen ground crunched below their feet.

By noon, they had left the forest behind and had reached the snow line. It was nearly a foot deep in places and only became deeper the further up the mountain they climbed. If the mood had been lighter, attempts to start a snowball fight would have happened.

But the mood was heavy and the soldiers were quiet.

Zhu glanced around, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area from atop Umut. The mare snorted, her breath coming out in clouds in the chilly air. Something felt horribly wrong; both horse and rider could feel it.

They weren’t the only ones, either. Zhu could see some of the soldiers looking around uneasily; if they weren’t blowing on their hands to warm them, they were gripping their sword hilts.

Shielding her eyes, she looked at the sky. Dark storm clouds were quickly overtaking clear blue. ‘Change is coming again,’ she thought, frowning. ‘The last time I felt this way, we had just invaded China…’ She let out a quiet sigh and closed her eyes; her stomach was beginning to churn. ‘That wasn’t even five months ago. How could so much have happened in so little time? …How could I have changed so much? And all because of those four _oddballs_ …’

A piercing cry broke the silence around them and a pair of gold-and-pink eyes flashed in her mind. Zhu’s eyes snapped open and, in an instant, she had her bow drawn and an arrow knocked. She searched the sky above them, a snarl on her lips. Her heart was racing and the hand that held the arrow shook because of her sudden anxiety.

She knew that cry all too well.

 “Whoa, ease up there, Zhu,” Ling told her, a worried look on his face. “It was just a falcon.”

“I know,” she murmured, easing her bow. “I _hate_ falcons.” She kept her gaze towards the sky, searching and searching for Hayabusa. But she found no sign of him.

‘I know you’re up there,’ she thought. ‘Show yourself, demon.’

But Hayabusa remained hidden from her sight.

After nearly ten minutes, she reluctantly gave up her search. She put the arrow back in her quiver and slung her bow over her shoulder.

‘My uncle has to be nearby,’ she told herself. ‘But _where_? There’s nowhere for him to hide an army _that_ size. There’s nothing but snow to hide in…’

Her brows furrowed and she brought Umut to a halt. There was a strange smell in the air. It was like a mix between burnt pork and day-old urine; unpleasant and harsh. The others were beginning to smell it, too—they were waving their hands in front of their noses and wore looks of disgust.

“Ugh…Did someone in front crap themselves…?” she heard Yao grumble.

“It had to have been more than one person,” Ling said, pulling his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose. “Smells like the latrines on a hot day with a side of bad cooking…”

Chien-Po waved his hand in front of his face. “Most unpleasant, for sure.”

Mulan said nothing as she also pulled up her scarf.

As the army rounded a corner, they were brought to an abrupt halt. Ahead of them, where the road met level ground once more, were the smoldering remains of a village. There was no sign of people; the snow-covered road was pristine.

Her stomach churning, Zhu glanced away.

“Search for survivors.” Shang’s orders echoed through the area.

After taking a moment to steel themselves, the army broke into small groups. Zhu, however, remained by herself. Dismounting Umut, she walked towards the village. Her stomach continued to twist and churn.

‘How many villages have I helped burn throughout my life?’ she thought, holding her breath as she walked through a cloud of smoke. She had always seen the villages beginning to burn and watched as they burned.

She had never seen the aftermath.

As she made her way through the area, she found the source of one of the smells: Bodies, burnt to a crisp but still intact. Adults clinging onto children; children curled up by themselves; adults holding onto each other as they prayed for someone to help them.

Zhu stopped in front of what had once been a large house. Something made her walk through what was left of the doorway and go towards the back of the house. There, in what was once a kitchen, was a group of five, small bodies huddled together.

‘These people had no warning. No chance to escape. How many lives were lost because of my uncle…?’ she asked herself. ‘There was a time when he refused to hurt children. Now he takes their lives like he takes the lives of his enemies.’

“To him, they _are_ enemies,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She felt tears beginning to slide down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. With a shaky sigh, she turned and left the building.

Umut was waiting for her, her head held lower than normal. As Zhu patted her neck, she thought she could see sadness in the mare’s eyes. Before she could do much else, though, Umut nudged her. She continued to nudge her, trying to push her away from the smoke and ash around them.

“Umut— _spirits_ , what’s gotten into you?” Zhu questioned, her brows furrowed. She tried to move out of the way of the horse, but Umut was persistent.

Following her rider’s every step, she continued to shove her forward. When Zhu tried to run the other way, she snatched the back of her scarf with her teeth. Giving a quick, hard yank, she sent Zhu flying forward into the snow. Zhu had just barely enough time to spin herself around in an attempt to brace herself.

She landed, face-first, in the snow. Pushing herself to her knees, she cursed and started wiping the snow from her face. “Umut, what in the world is _wrong_ with you!?” she hissed, her eyes stinging thanks to the snow. “You could have _walked_ me out! You didn’t need to—” She suddenly fell silent.

Having blinked the snow from her eyes, Zhu found herself staring down at a sea of red. Blinking again, she realized that it wasn’t just red she was seeing, but _thousands_ of bodies. Chinese and Hun alike lay, dead, in the valley below, their bodies covered with a light dusting of red-tinged snow.

Zhu felt numb.

She had fought in wars. She had seen the carnage left in the wake of her uncle’s army. Never— _never_ —had she seen a massacre like this before. Before, if there had been any survivors, they were given the choice to join his army or be left for dead. But this time, there were _no_ survivors.

The entirety of the Chinese Imperial army was _dead_.

China’s fate now rested on the shoulders of their small group.

“He’ll pay,” she heard herself whisper. “Even if it kills me, Shan Yu _will_ pay for this.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to _kill_ something. Instead, though, she got to her feet and went to Umut. Burying her face in the mare’s mane, she swallowed hard and locked her emotions away. They would only cloud her mind when the fighting began.

Whatever doubts she had harbored in the back of her mind were now gone. Shan Yu was no longer her uncle. He hadn’t been for nearly a decade. Hayabusa had turned him into little more than a bloodthirsty, power-hungry _monster_.

And she was going to be the one to kill him.

Mounting Umut, she rode over to the rest of the army as they started to regroup. Some yards ahead of them was Shang. He knelt in the snow, an intricate helmet resting atop a sword hilt sitting before him.

‘That was his father’s helm,’ she told herself. ‘It’s far too intricate to belong to a common soldier.’

After a moment, Shang rose to his feet and turned his back on the sword and helmet. He approached the group of soldiers, his jaw set and his cheeks damp. Wordlessly, he mounted his horse before looking over his shoulder at the mountain pass above them.

“The Huns are moving quickly,” he called out. “We’ll make better time to the Imperial City through the Tung Shao Pass.” Bringing his horse around to face the pass, he gave one last look at his father’s helmet. “We’re the only hope for the Emperor now. Move out!”

 

The distance to the pass had been deceptive. While it looked tens of miles away from the remains of the village, in reality, it was less than seven miles away. Just under two hours had passed when they reached the foot of the gap.

‘I don’t like this,’ Zhu thought, her eyes narrowing as she looked around.

The Tung Shao Pass was a gently sloping mound between two foreboding peaks that ended in a sheer cliff on its western edge. The farther peak was covered in heavy snow that left its slopes smooth. There were no places to hide there, but the mountain they were forced to walk in front of more than made up for it: There was hardly any snow on its westward-facing side, leaving many ragged cliffs and boulders open.

Glancing between the mountain and Shang, she furrowed her brows. ‘I _know_ they’re hiding there,’ she thought to herself. ‘At least, some of his archers are. Bleda and Mundzuc are most definitely up there.’ She looked to Shang again before letting out a heavy sigh. ‘Mundzuc probably has an arrow fixed on me anyway.’

Spurring Umut, she rode to the front of the line. “Captain, we need to pull away from the mountain side,” she told him, her voice urgent.

He frowned as he looked over at her. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sudden firing of a cannon. Umut and Shang’s stallion let out shrieks and reared back in fear.

Managing to get his stallion under control, Shang brought him around to face the group. His eyes narrowed when he saw Mulan next to the cannon cart, her eyes wide in shock.

“What happened?!” he demanded, riding over.

“Uh—” Mulan managed to get out before Shang interjected.

“You just gave away our position!” he snapped. “Now we’re—” A grunt left his mouth as an arrow flew into shoulder, the force knocking him from his horse.

“Get out of range!” Zhu shouted, her bow in hand. Grabbing a handful of arrows, she shoved some between her teeth. Without needing to be told, Umut started galloping away from the line as Zhu fired arrow after arrow.

A cloud of arrows darkened the sky as they were loosed from the mountain side. Zhu cursed, the words muffled by the arrows in her mouth. Looking over her shoulder, she could see the others running out of range, though Mulan was struggling to get Khan moving quick enough.

Squeezing her left leg against Umut’s side, Zhu watched as one of her arrows found a target. As Umut turned around, a Hun archer fell from the cliff fifty feet above. She sent a few more arrows towards the cliffs; two more Huns were hit.

‘That’s enough for now,’ she told herself, pulling the arrows from her mouth. ‘I should have drawn at least _some_ of their attention.’ With her eyes still narrowed, she scanned the cliffs as Umut galloped by, trying to see if she could spot Mundzuc and Bleda. She knew they would be the deadliest of the archers. ‘I know you’re up there. Why aren’t you firing at me?’

Perhaps they were reluctant to fire at her? No; only Bleda would feel some reluctance. Mundzuc would have been overjoyed to shoot her full of arrows. Maybe they had orders to keep her alive? That had to have been it. Mundzuc wouldn’t hold his fire on her otherwise.

“Ping! You need to move faster!” she called out, shoving her arrows back into her quiver.

“I’m trying!” she called back. “But the snow is making it hard for Khan!”

Zhu shoved her arm through her bow and practically flung herself from Umut. Hurrying behind the cart, she crouched down and lifted its back end up and out of the snow. “Go!” she ordered, seemingly having no difficulties holding the cart’s weight.

With the weight no longer holding him back, Khan was able to quicken his pace.

Mulan, though she kept running alongside him, gawked back at Zhu. “How can you carry that!?”

“If we survive this, _maybe_ I’ll tell you. For now, just keep running!”

Doing as instructed, Mulan lead Khan towards a group of boulders where the rest of the army was gathering. Glancing at Khan, she saw movement on his other side—Umut. She was keeping pace with them should Zhu need her.

They were nearly halfway to the group when Zhu cried out. The sound of jostling cannons could be heard as Khan lurched to a sudden stop. Before Mulan could check on Zhu, she swore under her breath: The Huns had released flaming arrows and three of them had hit the cart.

“Save the cannons!” she heard Shang shout.

Racing to the back of the cart, Mulan found Zhu picking herself up out of the snow. Her eyes widened; there was an arrow sticking out of her lower back.

“Break it off!” Zhu ordered through clenched teeth. “Don’t pull it—just break it!”

The soldiers had reached the cart by now and were forming a human chain.

“What!? Zhu, this could be a mortal hit—” Mulan snapped.

“It’s _not_. Trust me. Now _break it_!” She swore loudly as Mulan broke the arrow. Then, ignoring Mulan’s concerned questions, she hurried forward. Grabbing an armful of cannons, she raced towards the boulders.

“Zhu, how many Huns did you see?” Shang demanded.

She practically threw the cannons on the ground before doubling over. “Only around thirty,” she answered, breathless. “That’s not even a _fraction_ of Shan Yu’s army, though. Just—just a handful of his archers.”

He narrowed his eyes. As he was about to ask her how she knew that, an explosion made them jump. They both looked to where the cannon cart had been only to find it a smoldering ruin.

Everyone, including Khan and Umut, had managed to get away in time, though.

“Ready the cannons!” Shang ordered, pointing at the mountain.

Zhu frowned. “Don’t _waste_ them on a handful of men!” she argued. She yelped, jumping again as the volley of rockets was lit.

Shang glared at her. “You need to _stand down_ , Zhu,” he ordered, his voice authoritative. “You did your duty as a scout—now it’s time to be a soldier again.”

Though she badly wanted to, she was able to stop herself from yelling at him. Instead, she backed off, watching as another volley of cannons was sent flying into the mountainside. Her eyes narrowing as she stared up at the smoke-covered pass, she reached over and grabbed hold of Umut’s saddle.

‘We have no chance now,’ she thought. ‘The cannons _could_ have taken out a good portion of Shan Yu’s army, but now?’

A hiss of pain left her mouth as she mounted Umut. The arrow in her back made it painful to sit. Doing her best to ignore the pain, she instead started to unshoulder her bow.

“Hold the last cannon!” Shang’s voice echoed around them.

All had gone quiet.

With baited breath, the army watched as the smoke began to clear. At first, it looked like the Tung Shao Pass had been left entirely free of Huns. But then a silhouette rose from the fading smoke.

“Uncle,” Zhu murmured under her breath. Her heart started to race; his elite were riding up beside him. Bleda and Mundzuc were on either side of Shan Yu.

And then hundreds more Huns came into sight.

Raising his sword, Shan Yu spurred his men forward. Like a wave crashing onto the beach, the Hun army came riding down the mountain. And they just _kept_ coming. There was no end to their numbers.

“Prepare to fight,” Shang ordered, drawing his sword. “If we die, we die with honor. Yao, aim the cannon at Shan Yu.”

Zhu clenched her teeth and swallowed hard. She looked over at her friends. Chien-Po wore a look of uncertainty. Yao had a determined scowl as he carefully aimed the cannon. Ling was absolutely terrified.

Mulan, she saw, wasn’t looking at the sea of Huns. She was staring up at the southern mountain peak. Before Zhu could ask her what she was thinking, Mulan darted forward. Shoving Yao out of the way, she snatched up the cannon and began running towards the Huns.

“Ping! Come back! PING!” Shang shouted.

Realizing what she had planned, Zhu urged Umut forward. Though she had had a head start, Umut easily caught up with Mulan. Zhu reached down and snatched her up by the belt, earing a yelp of surprise.

“You’re insane,” Zhu told her, smiling.

She half-heartedly smiled back, glad that she wasn’t being carried back. “It’s the only chance we have.”

“I know. I’ll try to buy you some time.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t take on Shan Yu by yourself!”

At that, Zhu gave her a sorrowful smile. “Maybe not, but I’d rather die protecting my friends than let them get hurt by him. Aim well, Mulan. This is your only shot.”

Before Mulan could reply, Zhu let go of her belt. A grunt left her mouth as she landed on her knees, the snow doing little to cushion the fall. Biting her lower lip, she watched as Zhu rode on. Then, shaking her head, she jammed the butt of the cannon into the snow.

Aiming wasn’t a difficult task; she only had to make sure that it’d hit the side of the mountain. As she grabbed the flint and steel to light it, though, there was a cry from above. Seconds later, something slammed into her, knocking her sideways and sending the flint flying from her hand. Righting herself, she saw what had hit her: A large falcon.

She didn’t have time to question it. She started to frantically search the snow around her, trying to find the fallen flint. Unable to find it, she bit her lower lip and looked up to see if Zhu was close enough to give her hers.

“What’re you waiting for?!” Mushu cried from her shoulder. “A gilded invitation!? Light it!”

With no other choice left to her, she snatched the dragon and, stretching him out, forced a burst of flame from his mouth. The fuse sparked into life and Mushu pulled himself from her grip. Not even ten seconds had passed before the rocket shot from its tube.

“You missed!” Mushu shouted, his voice fading as he was pulled along by the rocket. “How could you miss!? He was _three yards_ in front of you!”

She frowned. Looking away from the mountain, she saw that Shan Yu was, indeed, only three yards from her. But Zhu was between them, struggling to keep up with the quick movements of his sword. Blood was quickly staining her arm and her side, though she showed no signs of pain.

Her eyes widened somewhat; she couldn’t help but notice that Zhu bore an eerie resemblance to Shan Yu.

There was a small ‘boom’ from above, drawing their attention. All three looked up in time to see the snow-covered side of the mountain beginning to crack and crumble. Enormous chunks of snow began raining down onto the Hun army.

Letting out an angry yell, he spurred his horse forward, towards Mulan. She began getting to her feet to run away, but she was too slow. Shan Yu swung his sword at her, the blow knocking her backwards. Her stomach burned, but she ignored the pain and started to scramble away.

“Leave her alone!” she heard Zhu shout.

“Don’t give _me_ orders, _girl_!” Shan Yu shouted back.

Mulan glanced over her shoulder in time to see Zhu ride dangerously close to Shan Yu. She reached out and grabbed the neck of his coat, pulling him down. With a growl, she slammed her forehead against his face. As he howled in pain, she rode off.

“SHAN ZHU!” he shouted, blood flying from his mouth. “YOU TRAITOR!”

Zhu swallowed hard, refusing to look back. He wasn’t her uncle anymore, she told herself. He and the elite were corrupted. They were monsters—bloodthirsty, power-hungry monsters.

But she could hear the hurt in his voice and it made her heart ache.

“I’m n0t sorry, uncle,” she whispered, unshouldering her bow.

She was reaching for her arrows when Umut’s legs suddenly gave out. A cry left Zhu’s mouth as she was sent flying off of the mare’s back. Hitting the snow, she heard a sickening crack, but felt no pain. She pushed herself upright, finding that her bow had broken in the fall. It was quickly forgotten when she looked up.

Umut lay in front of her, two arrows sticking out from her flank and another two through her neck.

“No—no, no, _no!_ ” Not caring about the fast-approaching avalanche, she stumbled forward. She gently lifted Umut’s head, brushing away her forelock. “Spirits, please, _not her_! Please not her!”

But she found no life in Umut’s eyes.

Her vision quickly became blurry and her eyes stung, tears started spilling down her cheeks. Someone grabbed her and started pulling her away from Umut’s body. She resisted at first, not wanting to leave her; how could she? Though she was a horse, Umut had felt like a sister to her. She had raised her from a foal, sometimes even putting her health above her own.

In return, Umut had always been there for her.

Another pair of hands grabbed hold of her and, with help from the first pair, forced Zhu to turn around and start running. Through her tears, she was able to see that it was Mulan and Shang who were dragging her. Ahead of them, Khan was galloping towards them. Taking one last glance over her shoulder, she watched as Umut’s body was enveloped by the roaring snow.

‘ _Keep running,’_ a voice in her head ordered. ‘ _Keep running. Don’t give up._ Never _give up.’_

Swallowing hard, she clenched her eyes shut and forced her unshed tears to spill. Hearing Khan’s approaching hoofbeats, she opened her eyes once again. She wrenched her arm free of Shang’s grip and, grabbing hold of Mulan, practically threw her onto Khan’s back.

She was just barely able to toss Shang forward when the avalanche caught up with them. A curse flew from her mouth as the snow slammed into her back, pushing her forward. She fought against it, trying her hardest to break free.

The wounds on her side and arm were beginning to make their presence painfully known and the left side of her chest burned. Breathing was quickly becoming a struggle; she had to breathe through her nose in order to stop the snow from filling her mouth.

Miraculously, her head broke through the surface of the snow. Gasping for breath, she tried to look around for any sign of safety—for any sign of her friends. But all she could see was the unending sea of snow.

Her lower half abruptly rammed into something hard and flat. She didn’t have time to wonder what she had hit; the snow continued dragging her up and over the object. The ground dropped out from below her and she cursed—was this how she was going to die? Thrown over a cliff by an _avalanche_ of all things?

Out of nowhere, a pair of arms grabbed hold of her and yanked her backwards. As she was pulled back, she watched as snow continued to arc overhead only to fall yards away. She landed, hard, on the ground, a cry of pain leaving her mouth as the arrow in her back was driven deeper into her flesh.

“Oof—You were right, Chien-Po: He is a _lot_ heavier than he looks!”

Zhu rolled over and pushed herself to her knees. For a moment, she sat there, doubled over in pain as she tried to catch her breath. Above her, a few people were asking her a barrage of questions, but she couldn’t focus well enough for her to understand them.

She was _freezing_. Her whole body shook from the cold. On top of that, her entire _being_ felt like it had been trampled by a stampede of wild horses.

Someone knelt in front of her; she knew it wasn’t Ling, Yao, or Chien-Po. Their sash wasn’t the right color. They set their hands on her shoulders and she could hear their voice, but their words were garbled. She tried to look up, but her head felt impossibly heavy and her vision swam before her.

And then everything went black.


	17. 17

Her wrists were bound.

Slowly opening her eyes, Zhu looked around only to find that she was lying in a dark tent. Judging by the tightness around her waist and arm, she guessed that her wounds had been tended to. She frowned; why clean her wounds and bandage them if they were going to tie her up like a criminal…?

‘Did they find out…?’ she thought, closing her eyes. Twisting her hands somewhat, she found that, if she wanted, she could easily break the ropes. But she didn’t. ‘Of course they did. I wouldn’t be tied up if they hadn’t. But _how_? The avalanche would have drowned out Shan Yu’s voice.’ She shook her head, trying to get some loose hair out of her face. ‘No. No, they didn’t find out about my Hun side. I’d already be dead if they did. They found out I’m a woman.’

She let out a quiet sigh and shifted her position so that she now sat on her knees. Doing so revealed to her that her shirt was missing, though the bandages wrapped around her torso kept her fairly decent. She wondered if the medic had kept her shirt off to prove to Shang that she was a woman or because her shirt had been ruined.

‘They’ll kill me for this. I wonder how? Beheading? Arrow through the skull? Dropping me over the side of the mountain?’ A warm tear slid down her cheek. ‘It doesn’t matter…dying means I’ll at least get to see Umut again.’ Clenching her jaw, she held back a sob.

She laid back down and curled up into a ball, her eyes squeezed shut as she silently cried. She couldn’t believe Umut was gone. They had been through so much together; why did it have to end like _that_?

‘She didn’t deserve to die like that. She was too good.’ She slowly inhaled through her nose, doing her best to remain silent. ‘Umut deserved to live a long and happy life and have many foals. Not to be shot down like a deer and devoured by an avalanche! It should have been me, _not_ her!’ Her jaw shaking, she turned her head and buried her face in the tent floor.

Now, more than ever, she wanted Umut. She _needed_ Umut. The mare had always been her rock; just being around her was calming. But now without her, Zhu’s mind was racing with different emotions and thoughts, unable to settle on one. Everything felt wrong—felt _unreal_. She prayed to whoever would hear her for it to be false, for it to just be another one of her nightmares.

Outside the tent, she could hear voices approaching. One of them was most definitely Shang; the other she wasn’t quite sure about. Opening her eyes, she was in time to see the opening of the tent be thrown back. As light spilled into the tent, she was shocked to see Mulan laying near her.

When the light hit her, Mulan let out a quiet groan and opened her eyes. As her vision came to focus, she smiled and started to push herself up. But the blanket covering her body fell, earning a shocked gasp from Shang. Like Zhu, she wore no shirt; only bandages. The difference between them, however, was that her feminine form was _far_ more noticeable.

“I can explain!” Mulan squeaked, clutching the blanket back to her chest.

Zhu’s eyes narrowed as Chi-Fu’s head appeared over Shang’s shoulder. “So, it’s true!” he gasped, voice dripping with horrified disgust.

Shang had grown two shades paler. Wordlessly, he turned and left the tent.

Chi-Fu, however, snatched Mulan’s arm and yanked her to her feet. Before Zhu could get a word out, he had dragged Mulan out of the tent. Scurrying to her feet, Zhu hurried after them.

“I knew there was something the matter with you!” Chi-Fu cried, displaying Mulan for the entire camp to see. His free hand grabbed the ribbon holding her hair up, pulling it loose and letting her hair fall to her shoulders. “A _woman_!” He threw her forward into the snow. “Treacherous _snake_!”

“Her name is Mulan and it’s thanks to _her_ that the Huns are dead.”

Chi-Fu spun around, anger and hatred on his face when he found Zhu standing outside the tent. He opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten.

“I did it to save my father!” Mulan pleaded. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far!”

“High treason!” Chi-Fu cried. “ _Ultimate dishonor!_ ”

Zhu growled, storming forward until she was just inches from Chi-Fu. “She just saved your life and the lives of all these men, you _wretched_ little man!” she snapped, towering over his menacingly. “How is _that_ dishonorable?!”

A smug look suddenly came to his face and he calmly crossed his arms. “And just _what_ does a _Hun_ know of honor?”

Though her brows furrowed, her widened ever so slightly; so they _did_ find out. But _how_? Had she been wrong about the avalanche drowning out Shan Yu’s yell?

“Surprised, are you?” he sneered. “I had my suspicions about you. Everything about you was _wrong_. Your appearance, your preference for fighting on horseback—your _blatant_ disregard for authority.” He started to stroke his chin in a thoughtful fashion. “Seeing you alongside Shan Yu only confirmed those suspicions. You were born a Hun and you will _die_ a Hun.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced at Mulan and then at the soldiers. Everyone was staring at her with looks of horror. Even Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po looked mortified.

“Dispicable, isn’t it?” Chi-Fu continued, his tone taunting. “A woman and a Hun thinking they could _fool_ their way up through the ranks—”

“I wanted no such thing!” Mulan argued. “I _only_ wanted to save my father!”

“A _likely_ story!” he sneered. He turned to Zhu once again. “And I suppose you wanted to save _your_ father as well?” he taunted.

Zhu glared at him, her entire being filling with rage and fury. How could he treat Mulan like this when she had saved not just his life, but possibly the whole of _China_?! She couldn’t care less how he treated her; but he should have been praising Mulan and begging her for forgiveness. She clenched her bound fists, feeling her nails digging into her skin; she wanted nothing more than to bring a knife through his throat and watch his blood melt the snow at his feet.

“My father has been dead for twenty-three years,” she told him, voice as cold as ice. “ _I_ was sent to kill _you_. Not Shang. Not any of the soldiers. _You_.”

Chi-Fu looked beyond flabbergasted; he hadn’t expected to hear _that_ kind of answer. Stammering out a few disjointed words, he found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. He took a step back, unsure whether he should believe her or if this was just one of her threats.

It was then Shang stepped forward, his face stoic and still pale. Drawing his sword, he held it out, its point just inches from Zhu’s throat. He watched as her body tensed, her eyes flicking down to stare at the blade.

“Who are you _really_ , Zhu?” he demanded, voice quiet. “If that’s even your true name.”

She was silent for a moment. Her hatred and anger had faded away, replaced by a feeling of regret and remorse. She could see the disappointment in Shang’s eyes. Her chest started to grow tight and her mouth grew dry.

“My name is Shan Zhu,” she finally said, a bit of shakiness to her voice. “My father was Shan Da and my uncle, Shan Yu.” Closing her eyes, she slowly exhaled through her nose as she heard the shocked gasps and curses from the others. She didn’t want to see her friends’ reactions.

Or, rather, those who _used_ to be her friends. She was certain they wanted nothing to do with her now that they knew the truth.

“And Shan Yu sent you to kill Chi-Fu?” Shang questioned.

“Yes.”

“How did you know where to find him? And how were you able to come by your clothes and armor?”

At that, her eyes shot open a panicked expression overcame her features. She looked between Shang and Ling, swallowing hard. Her reaction let Shang know however she got the clothes couldn’t have been good. Zhu took an uneasy step back, but he stepped with her, keeping his blade raised.

“Tell me, _Shan Zhu_ ,” he ordered. As her name left his lips, her chest grew even tighter.

“Th-there…there was a pair of Imperial scouts,” she started. For the first time, he heard fear in her voice. “A younger and an older one. Shan Yu let the elder go with a message for the Emperor while he kept the younger to interrogate.”

“And the clothes?”

She swallowed hard again, her chest now impossibly tight. Her stomach started churning, knowing what she had to tell him and how Ling would surely hear it.

Never had she felt this scared. Even being trapped in a burning yurt couldn’t compare to the fear she now felt.  

Shang rested the sword on the base of her neck, his eyes narrowing. “ _The clothes_?”

“Belonged…belonged to th-the younger scout,” she admitted. It was difficult to talk. Her jaw was starting to shake and her eyes were quickly filling with tears. “Sh-Shan Yu had him strip before letting him go.”

At that, Shang cocked a brow in confusion. “He let him _go_?”

She nodded.

“So the scout survived. Why didn’t he—”

“No.”

“But you just said-”

“ _Shan Yu_ didn’t kill him. I—I did. After another Hun shot him. The others…they were mocking him and jeering at him as he tried to crawl away.” She lowered her head in shame, a sob managing to escape her lips. “I took pity on him; no one should die being taunted like that. So I—So I put him out of his misery.”

Zhu didn’t know whether she spoke a truth or a lie. She _had_ felt pity towards Qi that day. But, at the same time, she had been annoyed by the army’s behavior as well. She had no idea whether it was pity or annoyance that made her take Qi’s life. Could it have been both…?

Shang narrowed his eyes, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Why are you crying?” he demanded. “He was nothing more than a nameless enemy of yours.”

“He wasn’t nameless!” she choked out. “He wasn’t—he wasn’t _nameless_. I know who he was. I didn’t know him then, but I do now. I know him because his family befriended me and showed me that everything I knew about the Chinese was wrong.”

She fell to her knees, eyes clenched shut and her entire body shaking from the sobs she was struggling to hold back. “Spirits damn me, Ling…I’m so sorry. He was your brother. It was Qi.” The words came out as a hoarse whisper, but they echoed through the cold air. “I’m so sorry…”

Both Ling and Yao cried out in horror, making her flinch. Chien-Po gasped and she could tell that he was having to both hold Yao back while hugging Ling. She wished he’d let Yao go; he’d beat her within an inch of her life. Maybe even beat her _to_ death.

She deserved it.

Sheathing his sword, Shang turned away from her. His face bearing no emotion, he walked over to Khan. Confused, Chi-Fu frowned as he watched as him draw Mulan’s sword. When the blade was free of its scabbard, Khan reared back and let out an angered roar.

“Restrain him!” Chi-Fu ordered.

Tingfei darted forward and grabbed Khan’s reins, attempting to calm him. It was of little help; Khan continued to buck and snort, trying to get free to help Mulan.

A smug grin came to Chi-Fu’s lips as he watched Shang approached Mulan. To his horror, though, Shang merely threw the sword down into the snow before her.

“A life for a life,” he said, voice quiet as he refused to look at her. “My debt to _Ping_ is repaid.” He turned and, walking through the group of men, went to his horse. “Give Zhu her shirt back and tie her up. We’ll let the Emperor decide what to do with her.”

Chi-Fu’s jaw fell slack. “But you can’t just—”

Shang shot him a deadly look. “I said _let the Emperor decide_.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was a small village at the base of the mountain and it was there the army stopped for the night. In the distance, they could just barely see the walls of the Imperial City poking over the horizon. Everyone, though, was too exhausted—both physically and mentally—to march the extra five miles. Even being greeted as heroes by the villagers did little to liven their spirits.

Ling, especially, was drained. Finding out that ‘Ping’ was actually a woman had been overwhelming enough, but then finding out that Zhu was actually a Hun and had _killed_ his brother? He was left so shocked and so horrified that he was numb.

Since leaving the Tung Shao pass, he had said nothing; he could only stare at the ground and follow behind Yao as they marched. Even getting him to eat had been a chore with Chien-Po nearly having to spoon feed him.

He tried to sleep, but thoughts of his brother kept passing through his mind. He would never see Qi again. Qi wouldn’t be there to help boost his confidence when he was feeling low or turn as red as a beet when trying to flirt with women. He’d never hear his twin groan as he told a bad pun, nor would he hear him laugh when he told a good joke.

Would he even be _able_ to make puns and tell jokes anymore?

It didn’t feel like it.

Rolling onto his back, he sighed and opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of a star-filled sky and his heart ached even more. He and Qi used to love looking at the stars together; they would create their own constellations and give them funny names and stories. Of course, they’d often find themselves in _trouble_ for stargazing—something about the monks thinking it too dangerous for them to climb on the temple roof in the middle of the night.

He didn’t bother wiping away his tears; they weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

As he laid there, something started nagging at the back of his mind: If Zhu had been able to lie so easily to them about herself, what’s to say her story about how Qi died wasn’t _also_ a lie? He had known people who could make themselves cry on command. Maybe she was one of them?

The last thing he wanted was to look at her, but he also needed to know if his brother had died as…as _cleanly_ as Zhu had claimed.

Crawling out of his bedroll, he was careful to not wake Chien-Po and Yao. He took the same care to not disturb anyone as he picked his way through the crowd of sleeping soldiers. He didn’t need another person asking if he needed anything or if he was alright.

Unless they could resurrect the dead, there was nothing they could do.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of searching, but he finally found Zhu in the stable. Shang’s stallion and Chi-Fu’s gelding stood on either side of her, acting as guards. Not that guards were needed; her were hands bound behind her back and her legs tied together. As an extra precaution, she had also been tied to a post and a gag wrapped around her head.

For a moment, he stood in the stable doorway, staring at her. Part of him wanted to hit her. To yell at her. To make her pay for what she had done. But another part of him wanted to believe that this was all just an elaborately bad prank. That Qi was still alive and would be greeting them once they reached the Imperial City. Only talking to her would get him the truth.

Zhu looked up as his shadow fell over her. Realizing who it was before her, she looked away in shame. He could tell that her cheeks were still wet with tears. There was also trail of dried blood leading down from her nose and along her neck from where someone had hit her on his behalf.

Ling crouched down in front of her, his face emotionless as he reached a hand out. She tensed, her eyes clenched shut as she waited for him to hit her. But the blow never came. Instead, he untied the gag and let the cloth fall to the ground.

“You were our friend,” he told her, his voice eerily hollow. “We _trusted_ you.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“This whole time, you knew it was my brother you killed. You _knew_ it was Qi.” He felt his jaw wobble slightly. “How? How are you so sure it was him?”

“He looked like you. Same face shape. Same ears. Same eyes…his nose was smaller and more upturned, though, and his eyebrows thicker.” She let her eyes fall closed. “And he haunted me. He and Hayabusa…almost every night they’d torment me until Chien-Po gave me a paper talisman.”

Ling narrowed his eyes; he didn’t think his brother would _ever_ haunt someone, even if they had been the one to kill him. It just wasn’t like Qi to want to do such a thing. But then again, he supposed, being murdered could have changed the way he thought.

And who was Hayabusa? Was he another one of her victims?

“Did my brother really die as you said? Or was that just another lie of yours?” he asked at length.

Zhu forced herself to look him in the eye. “It was just as I said,” she told him. “He had been shot in the lower back, close to his spine. It was a mortal hit, but one that would have taken _days_ to kill him. That would have been bad enough, but to have the last things you hear be the sneering and mocking laughter of your enemies?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

As she spoke, something in his heart told Ling that she wasn’t lying. It hurt, knowing that Qi had had such a cruel death. But it was also an odd sort relief to know that at least _someone_ had taken some pity on him, even if it was by ending his life. A heavy sigh left his mouth and he buried his face in his hands.

“You four treated me so differently from what I was used to,” she said after some minutes of silence. “You didn’t hit me or beat me or threaten my life if I did something wrong. Spirits damn me, _Shang_ didn’t even berate me for my lack of skill in certain areas. You all _cared_ about me. Not about how cleanly I could complete a mission or how well I obeyed orders or how well I could use a weapon. _Me_. It was so—so _wonderful_ , knowing I was _safe_ for the first time in my life. And I ruined it all before I even knew you.”

She hung her head and choked out a sob. “I’m sorry. I know I’ll never be able to say it enough, but _I am_ _so sorry_. For Qi. For the lies. For _everything_. If I could go back and change things so none of this happened—so that I didn’t hurt any of you like this—I would. I’d die a thousand times over if it meant Qi got to live.”

Ling swallowed hard as he stood up. “I only wish it hadn’t been my brother,” he told her, voice quiet. “We could have forgiven you for being a Hun. We could have forgiven you for being a woman. But I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to forgive you for killing _our_ brother, even if it was out of pity.” Turning away from her, he started to walk away. He paused in the doorway as he heard her whisper one last thing:

“I deserve hell, not forgiveness.”

 


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and enjoying the first part of Zhu's tale! The second part of Zhu's trilogy, Daughter of Rebirth, will start being posted on March 25th!  
> Update, May 8th: Included a link to Daughter of Rebirth at the end of the chapter to make it easier for those not wanting to search for it lol

They reached the Imperial city the next night. As they drew nearer to the gate, they were greeted by joyous music, fireworks, and an absolutely _massive_ crowd. There was even a group of performers; some were hidden under an enormous mask and cape as they did a lion dance while others did amazing acrobatics. Above the city were hundreds of colorful kites and the occasional firework explosion.

While the greeting cheered up a good portion of the soldiers, many still remained somber. Among the latter was Shang, who seemed more heartbroken than anything.

“Cheer up, Captain,” Chi-Fu told him. He was sitting upright and wore a large smile, occasionally waving at the people as if _he_ had been the one to save them. “Show them a smile! They’re here for _you_ , after all. Because of you, _all_ of China has been saved.”

Saying nothing, Shang gave his horse a slight kick. The stallion blew through his nose trotted away from Chi-Fu.

The sudden movement earned a yelp from Zhu as she was yanked forward, the sound being muffled against her gag. Chi-Fu had insisted that she be pulled behind Shang’s horse; she was their prisoner, after all, and it would improve the city’s morale to see a Hun left helpless and humiliated.

Shang had only agreed to it so Chi-Fu would stop talking for a while.

Chi-Fu glanced down at her, finding that she was now walking alongside his gelding. “I wonder if the crowd will be this large at your execution?” he pondered aloud. “I would imagine. After all, you _are_ the daughter of Shan Da. The people will want to see the last of the Shan line eradicated.”

Unable to say anything, Zhu narrowed her eyes and glared up at him.

“I wonder if it’ll be strangulation?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully before smirking. “No, no…I’m certain the Emperor will have you beheaded. We wouldn’t want you to get reincarnated, after all.” As he spoke, he twirled part of his mustache around his finger.

She pulled her upper lip back in a snarl. Though it was partly obscured by the gag, it still managed to make the advisor nervously steer his horse away from her. ‘What does beheading have to do with reincarnation…? What _is_ reincarnation even? Chien-Po’s mentioned it once or twice, but never in detail.’

Letting out a heavy sigh, she glanced over her shoulder. A few soldiers stood between her and the trio of her once-friends. Ling had a downcast gaze as he carried the Imperial banner, Yao trudging along behind him. Chien-Po took up the rear of the trio, his eyes slowly looking over the crowd.

Zhu forced herself to look away from them and instead take in the city around her as a distraction to herself.

The Imperial City was impossibly large. She had been to cities before, but they had been cities far away in the west and were vastly different from the structures around her now. There were enormous wooden columns holding up curving clay roofs and strings of colorful lanterns strung between the buildings. Houses with white walls and multiple stories stood on either side of the wide street and there were curved gates leading to different sections of the city. At the far end of the city, she could see a massive staircase leading into what she could only guess to be the Emperor’s palace, though they were still too far yet to make out any details.

‘So this is the city Shan Yu wanted to so badly conquer,’ she told herself.

Sighing, she glanced up at the kite-filled sky. She had never seen a kite before and, had she been there under different circumstances, she would have thought them beautiful. They were all brightly colored with most being plain. Some kites, though, had the faces of dragons or cherry blossoms painted on them. Some of them even had tails made of multicolored ribbons trailing behind them.

Something managed to catch her attention, though. Narrowing her eyes, she did her best to see past everything into the darkness; it was a difficult task with so many kites and fireworks filling the sky. After a few minutes of searching, she gasped.

Barely visible against the night sky, she could see a falcon circling the city.

At first, she thought she was just seeing things—that it was just a bird or a bat startled by the celebration. But normal creatures of the sky would actively _avoid_ the area. This one, though, was on the hunt.

‘That _has_ to be Hayabusa. But he’s _alive_?! _How_?!’ she thought, her eyes widening in horror. ‘I thought he perished in the avalanche? If he’s alive…oh spirits…’ She could feel the color draining from her face. ‘Shan Yu is here.’

Pulling her eyes from the sky, she tried calling out to Shang, though her voice was muffled. At first, he ignored her, but as her tone became more desperate, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“It’s too late to beg for mercy, Zhu,” he told her.

She shook her head before motioning towards the sky with her head. He didn’t understand her charades, though, and turned back around.

Mentally cursing, Zhu attempted to cut the gag by grinding it between her teeth. It was to no avail and only managed to earn a laugh from Chi-Fu. She ignored him, however, and, twisting her wrists, judged the strength of the ropes.

‘I can still break through these,’ she thought. ‘Should I, though? I know they won’t believe me even if I _did_ tell them. …And _why_ should they? They don’t know of Shan Yu and Hayabusa’s pact. They don’t know that, so long as Hayabusa lives, Shan Yu will, too. And at this point, I don’t think they’d be willing to hear me out.’

She let out a defeated sigh, beginning to scan the crowd for any faces she recognized. The least she could do, she told herself, was to prepare for some sort of fight.

They were three-quarters of the way through the city when they heard approaching hoofbeats. Zhu turned, her eyes widening as she saw Mulan riding through the crowd.

“Shang!” she called.

He looked up, shock on his face. “Mulan?!”

“Shang! The Huns are _alive!_ ” she told him, breathless. “They’re here, in the city!”

Zhu made a noise, nodding quickly. But she went unnoticed by the two.

He frowned, looking away from her; there was pain and hurt in his eyes. “You don’t belong here, Mulan. Go home.”

She scowled, bringing Khan alongside Shang’s stallion. “I _saw_ them in the mountains! You _have_ to believe me!”

He was forced to halt his horse when Khan blocked his path. “Why should I?”

“Why else would I come back?” She stared him in the eye. “You said you’d trust Ping. Why is Mulan any different?”

He said no reply. Instead, he looked away from her and steered his horse around Khan.

Zhu looked up at Mulan as she was dragged by, hoping that she could tell that she, at least, believed her. Some relief came to her when Mulan gave her a small, acknowledging nod.

‘Good. Someone else knows,’ Zhu thought, her heart racing. ‘But is she going to get anyone else to believe her? Spirits, Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po better believe her…’

Soon, they reached the base of an enormous staircase. Here, Shang dismounted. From under his saddlebag, he drew out a sword; Zhu frowned. Its serpentine blade and its hollow pommel were all-too familiar to her.

‘How did he get Shan Yu’s sword? I saw it get buried with him.’ Her brows furrowed in confusion.

As Shang started to untie the lead from around her neck, the lion dancers came to a stop beside them. Zhu glanced over at them, though she couldn’t see much past the large costume; she didn’t think it looked very much like a lion. More like a lion-dragon hybrid.

She frowned once again as she stole a look at the dancers’ feet: The foremost dancers wore heavy riding boots. She thought they would be wearing something lighter.

‘I guess dancing would take a toll on everyday shoes,’ she thought. Regardless, the sight didn’t sit well with her.

With his free hand, Shang grabbed her arm and started marching her up the stairs. She glanced over at him, but he refused to look at her. His gaze was fixed on something ahead of them: An elderly man clad in yellow, red, and black.

The Emperor.

He looked kinder than she imagined—and smaller. Whenever Shan Yu had told her stories of the Emperor, she had pictured him as a man at _least_ as large as her uncle. Instead, though, he was a good half foot shorter than her and was of a lean build. He was speaking to the crowd, but his voice was hard for her to hear; the lion dancers were following them up the stairs and their jingling bells drowned out most other sounds.

But why were they even following them? Shouldn’t they have stayed at the bottom of the stairs?

Zhu gave a wary glance over her shoulder, looking once again at the dancers’ feet when Shang brought them to a halt. He had stopped them a landing below the Emperor, respectfully giving him time to finish his speech and giving her time to take in more details about the ‘dancers’. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that one pair of legs were shorter and more bowed than the rest.

Bleda.

A curse was muffled against the gag. Looking at Shang, she was thankful he finally looked at her and watched as she nodded towards the lion dancers. His eyes darted behind them and he gave the slightest hint of a nod.

“Play along,” he whispered, stepping behind her. Reaching up, he untied the gag from around her head, letting the cloth fall to the ground. “And _don’t_ make me regret this.”

“I swear upon Umut’s spirit, I’m on your side,” she whispered back, feeling him starting to loosen the ropes around her wrists. “Don’t worry about those. I can get those myself.”

His brow rose, but he believed her. With the Emperor reaching the end of his speech, he started to pull her along as they ascended the stairs. His timing was perfect; the last word had just left the Emperor’s mouth when they stopped a few steps below him.

“Your Majesty,” Shang said, letting go of Zhu in favor of holding Shan Yu’s sword. “I present to you the sword of Shan Yu.”

The crowd gasped in unison, the sound being more like a storm gale than a small breath.

“Your father would be very proud of you,” said the Emperor, a sad, yet hopeful, smile on his lips. “And who is this woman?” he asked, looking at Zhu with a great amount curiosity.

“She is Shan Zhu, the daughter of Shan Da and the last of the Shan line.” Taking Zhu’s shoulder, he forced her to kneel before the Emperor with her head bowed. She managed to raise her head _just_ enough to see the look of utter disbelief on the Emperor’s face.

“Shan Da’s _daughter_?” he whispered, horror filling his eyes.

Before Shang could reply, there was a cry from above them. Zhu look up in time to see Hayabusa fly between Shang and the Emperor, snatching the sword in his talons. He banked right and, as he flew over the roof, dropped the sword. A hand reached out, catching it.

Narrowing her eyes, Zhu watched as Shan Yu stood, no longer hidden by the shadows. Cries of panic and horror came from the crowd.

There was a rustle from the lion dancers.

Bolting to her feet, she wrenched her hands free of the ropes that bound her, easily snapping them. Turning around, she watched as Bleda, Edeco, Mundzuc, Roua, and Ruga burst out of the lion’s head, their swords drawn. As they charged forward, she braced herself and was able to grab hold of Edeco before he could run past. She gripped his shoulders—a wrestling hold—and started pushing him backwards.

But Edeco had been the one who taught her how to wrestle and knew how to counter her. Their fight was only a few seconds long. Zhu attempted to drive him back down the stairs, but he ducked. He punched her in the gut, stopping her when she made to get him in a headlock. Shoving an arm between her legs, he lifted her up like a sack of grain.

“Kill the falcon!” Zhu shouted, struggling against Edeco’s hold. “Shan Yu’s life is tied to it!”

“You really have betrayed us,” she heard Edeco said, hurt in his voice.

As they passed through two, massive quickly-closing doors, she scowled. “The Chinese aren’t what Shan Yu says they are,” she told him. “They’re _kind_.”

“They’re thieves!” Edeco snapped, shrugging his shoulder. She slid off him and started falling towards the floor, but he caught her, having snatched a handful of her shirt and the bandages below. “They’re thieves, Shan Zhu! They chased our ancestors’ off their lands and stole them from us! They forced our people to become wandering nomads! They treat us like criminals, even if we’ve never committed a crime!”

“That was _centuries_ ago!” she argued, gripping his wrist. Her wounds from the previous day were beginning to throb as the bandages dug into them and it was getting a bit difficult to breathe. “They’re _nothing_ like their ancestors—just like _we’re_ nothing like _our_ ancestors!” If she could just get her feet on the floor…

“Bah! Listen to your words, Shan Zhu! They’ve poisoned you against us with their lies. What else did they tell you? That they would give us back our ancestral homeland and shower us with gold?”

Gritting her teeth in pain, she dug her nails into his wrist; she could feel her shirt beginning to rip due to her weight. “The only one who spoke lies was me and I regret every one of them!” Using his arm as a fulcrum, she shoved herself downwards, tearing a large hole in her shirt.

Spinning around, she jabbed her elbow into his gut. He doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. She then grabbed his still-outstretched arm and threw him over her shoulder. Where he landed, she didn’t care.

Zhu started running, trying to catch up with Roua and Ruga. Her lungs still burned, but she fought through the pain like she had done so many times back in Moo-Shung. This was nothing compared to marching double-time uphill while carrying fifty pounds of weight, she told herself.

Rounding a corner, she saw that she was nearly caught up to the twins. Before she could reach them, however, something slammed into her. She flew sideways, grunting as she hit her head on the stone floor. Lights danced before her eyes, obscuring most of the world.

She felt someone pin her down with their knee. “You’re lucky Shan Yu wants you _alive_.” Mundzuc.

“Really? That’s funny,” she spat, “because I want him _dead_.” She hissed as he grabbed a fist full of her hair and lifted her up. Another grunt left her mouth as the palm of his free hand slammed into the side of her face.

Once more, she saw nothing but dancing lights.

Mundzuc shifted, glancing over at Roua and Ruga as the twins reached the bottom of the stairs. “You’d be lucky if he kills you himself,” he hissed. “After what you’ve done, he may leave you to _me_.”

“Can’t wait, _old man_.” She felt him tense and winced as his nails dug into her arm and leg. Her brow rose; what was that thudding she was starting to hear?

“You _know_ not to call me that,” he growled.

“What? Don’t like me taunting you?” she continued, clenching her eyes shut in pain. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and she could feel blood beginning to ooze out from her nose. “Oh, _right_ …Don’t want to get you _excited_ during Shan Yu’s big moment.” Cracking open an eye, she bared her teeth at him. “Not that anything can be done about it, anyway. I lost the tea when you and Bleda _killed_ Umut.”

Snarling, he shoved her against a column, his face inches from hers. “If one more word comes out of your mouth—”

“Mundzuc.”

Both Mundzuc and Zhu looked up, seeing Roua coming towards them. Though he did his best to wear an intimidating scowl, there was obvious hurt in his eyes as he looked at Zhu. She felt her stomach suddenly drop and she looked away, using the back of her hand to try to wipe the blood from her face. She only succeeded in smearing it, though.

“Shan Yu wants to see her before he finishes off the Emperor,” Roua told Mundzuc.

Mundzuc huffed and, letting go of her, turned away. “So be it. Gives me time to think of all the ways I can torture her.”

As he walked away, Roua glared at him. Then, with a shake of his head, he gently grabbed Zhu by the shoulder and started guiding her towards the staircase. She wished he would have been rougher with her.

“Of all the people who would betray us, I never thought it’d be you, Zhu,” he told her, voice quiet. “Mundzuc? Yes. But you…?” He shook his head again. “Never.”

She swallowed hard. “I—I’m not sorry,” she told him, her voice somewhat shaky. “Shan Yu told me so many lies. Now that I know the truth, I—I can’t do this anymore.” As they passed by Ruga and the Emperor, she could feel Ruga’s disappointed gaze on her. She clenched her eyes shut until they were outside.

“He told you what he had to in order to keep you focused on your training,” he said, his voice remaining quiet and calm. “You are— _were_ —his heir and he needed you to become a great warrior to ensure the Shan line lives on. And now you _are_ a great warrior…you’re just fighting for the wrong side.”

“He told me the Chinese people were monsters!” she argued, feeling a tear run down her cheek. “He told me they were horrible, abusive, war-mongering monsters. They’re not—they’re kind and they’re funny! They don’t even want to fight; they’re only fighting to keep their loved ones safe!”

“Neither do _our_ people, but we _must_ fight. It’s the only way we can survive. If we _don’t_ fight, you know as well as I that our people would get wiped out.”

Zhu hated how calm and gentle he was being. She wished he had been Bleda or Edeco or even Mundzuc. Anyone but himself or Ruga. The twins had always been her favorite of the elite; though they could be just as harsh as the others, they were also the ones who had taken care of her when she was sick or injured. There were even times when she had thought of them more as her uncles than Shan Yu.

Seeing how much she had hurt them almost made her regret betraying her uncle.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she grew tense once more. Shan Yu was standing in front of a railing, his back facing them.

“You’ll know when to bring the Emperor,” he said, just barely turning his head.

Nodding, Roua gave Zhu a last, sorrowful look before going back down the stairs.

Shan Yu kept his back to her, but she could see that his knuckles were white as he gripped the banister. “I raised you to be better than this, Shan Zhu.”

“I was raised to be a cold-hearted killer,” she replied, glancing around. The only weapon in sight was her uncle’s sword and she found herself cursing the fact she had told Shang about the knives she had hidden in her socks. ‘But I didn’t know Shan Yu was alive then,’ she reminded herself.

“I raised you to be my _heir_.” He turned, his face emotionless as he stared at her. “Not a _traitor_.”

She glared back at him, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “ _You_ didn’t raise me. _You’re_ not even my uncle. _Uncle Yu_ died the day Hayabusa convinced him to conquer China. That’s the day you handed me over to the elite and watched from afar as they trained me to become a cold-hearted killer. No. _You_ don’t deserve credit for making me the warrior I am today.”

His lips pulled back in a snarl. “How _dare_ you—”

“You promised to keep me safe!” she suddenly shouted, taking a challenging step forward. “You said you would keep me out of harm’s way! But you _lied_! Just like you lied about the Chinese! There were times I nearly _died_ because of you! And you didn’t even care because I had become nothing more than another member of your elite!”

Shan Yu said nothing as he walked towards her. Zhu held his gaze, not moving from her spot even when he reached out for her. She was expecting him to hit her or to grab her throat; but he took her by surprise by resting his ungloved hand on her cheek.

“You have no idea how much you look like your father right now,” he told her, his voice eerily gentle. “But you most definitely sound like your mother. She did her best to convince Da and me that we would be better off with the Chinese as allies, _not_ enemies. Da fell for her words. He believed that the Chinese could be truly good people. But do you know what happened next, Shan Zhu?”

She continued to glare up at him, standing rigid. “Fa Zhou attacked,” she quietly replied.

“He attacked,” he repeated, his voice losing its softness. “He attacked and _killed your father_. His men killed tens of our people that night. And they nearly killed _you_ when they ‘rescued’ the wicked Chinese woman that was your mother!”

Zhu make a choking sound as Shan Yu suddenly gripped her throat, lifting her into the air.

“I raised you to be a proper Hun!” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. “A _Hun,_ Shan Zhu! But now I see what you truly are: A traitorous wretch just like your mother!” With a growl, he threw her, watching as she slammed into a column across the balcony. As she slid down, he could see that the impact had left deep cracks in the paint and wood.

Zhu grunted, her eyes shut in pain. She started to push herself to her knees, finding it a bit hard to swallow. “The only traitor here is _you_ ,” she hissed. “By starting this needless war, you’ve betrayed our people. _Thousands_ lost their lives yesterday because of _you_ and your lust for power.”

She rose to her feet, a snarl on her face. “You were the chief of the largest clan of Huns since Attila the Great! And now you’re chief to _what_? A couple dozen women and children we left, _safe_ , in the grazing fields and five men.” A sarcastic laugh left her mouth as Shan Yu ran towards her, but she jumped to the side. “The only thing keeping the elite from turning on you is that thrice-damned demon, Hayabusa!”

Shan Yu tried to grab at her, but she ducked under his arm. Throwing herself forward, she tackled him to the ground. While he was stunned, she was able to get a few punches in, but it didn’t last long.

She drew back her hand, intent on hitting his face, but he was faster. A strangled yelp left her mouth as the heel of his hand slammed into the bottom of her jaw. The force knocked her off him and onto the floor; she was oddly surprised none of her teeth had broken from the impact.

Before she could get her wits about her, Shan Yu was atop her, both his hand around her throat. “You may be of my blood, Shan Zhu,” he sneered, watching her face beginning to turn red, “but you have proven that you are no _Hun_.”

“ _Good_!” she wheezed. Attempting to loosen his grip, she punched him in the crook of his elbow.

It worked. His arm gave out and, as he was thrown off balance, she shoved herself rearwards. Bringing her legs up into her chest, she thrust them forward into him, knocking him backwards. Then, standing, she stormed over to him and grabbed his tunic. She yanked him towards her, making to slam her head against his.

But he wouldn’t fall for that twice.

As her head came rushing towards his, he leaned to the side. Her momentum sent her tumbling forward. Reaching behind her, he grabbed the back of her shirt and lifted her over his head. He then stood, ignoring her struggles to break loose.

“You don’t deserve to die by my blade,” he snarled, storming towards the stairs. “No. That would be too _quick_. For your treachery, you deserve the kind of death only Mundzuc could deliver.” He lowered her slightly, looking her in the eye and chuckling when he saw what looked to be fear. “What’s this I see? Does the thought of dying _frighten_ you?”

But it wasn’t fear in her eyes; it was sadness. “I am one of your elite, _sir_ ,” she told him, voice quiet, but unafraid. She stared, unblinking, into his black-and-yellow eyes. “To be an elite is to be the most fearless and the most powerful. I am _nothing_ less.”

His brows furrowed and, for a split second, Zhu thought she could see guilt in his eyes. Shaking his head, he suddenly let out a roar and threw her down the staircase. With his fists clenched at his sides, he watched as she rolled and bounced down the stairs until she disappeared into the room below.

Zhu came to a halt some feet from the doorway. As she laid there, trying to judge whether or not she was still alive, she could hear a shuffling of feet. Someone grabbed her underarms and started to drag her, but she made no effort to resist. She couldn’t.

 _Everything_ hurt.

‘Ignore the pain and fight on,’ she ordered herself. ‘If you can still breathe, you can still _fight_. Ignore the pain.’

Halfway opening her eyes, she found that it was Edeco dragging her. Before she could question where he was taking her, he stopped and propped her against the wall in a sitting position. And then, he just walked away.

‘Probably thinks I’m too hurt to keep fighting. Gives me time to recover a bit,’ she thought, watching him cross the hall and resume his position guarding the double doors. ‘I need some sort of plan and a weapon. I can only take Bleda and Mundzuc on in hand-to-hand; the others are better than me.’

She quietly hissed in pain as she shifted her position somewhat. Her brows furrowing, she did her best to force the thought of pain to the back of her mind. The throbbing in her side and head made it more than a little difficult, though. ‘Bleda has only his bow, but just a couple of arrows. A punch to the gut and one to the leg should take him out easily enough. I’d take his bow, but it’d be useless in such close quarters.’

With a grunt, she spat a mixture of blood and spit onto the ground next to her. She was happy to find that none of her teeth had been knocked out. And her lack of coughing reassured her that her lungs— _probably_ —hadn’t been injured.

‘The others have their swords. Roua and Ruga will be hesitant to attack me—and I’ll be just as hesitant to attack _them_. I’ll need to focus on Mundzuc first and then get his sword. Maybe use him as a human shield. …On second thought, no. I could throw him at the twins instead. That’d distract them long enough for me to handle Edeco. But will that give the others enough time to make it here?’

As if on cue, she started to hear whispering. Making it look like she was squirming in pain, she rolled her head to one side to better hear what was being said.

“Does this dress make me look fat?” That was most definitely Yao’s voice and the slap that followed _had_ to have come from Ling. It sounded too light for Chien-Po and too heavy for Mulan.

‘What in the Earth Mother’s name are they doing?’ she thought, frowning when she began hearing giggling.

She looked up in time to see Mulan, Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po come around the corner. “What the _hell_ …?” she mumbled.

All of them were dressed as concubines—including makeup.

‘They…actually _look_ like women,’ she thought, her mouth slightly agape as she watched them walk up to the elite. ‘ _Pretty_ women!’

Evidently, Roua _also_ thought the group was attractive; his cheeks had grown deep red and he wore a goofy smile as he flirtatiously waved at them. Zhu almost found it adorable, but Ruga was clearly annoyed. Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his brother in the ribs with his elbow.

So distracted by the group of ‘concubines’, the elite didn’t even glance in Zhu’s direction as she slowly got to her feet. She wobbled somewhat, but was able to keep her footing. Swallowing hard, she started to carefully make her way towards the elite. Before she could get halfway there, however, everything went silent.

Freezing in place, Zhu watched as Roua bent down to pick up a partially-eaten apple; where it had come from, she didn’t want to know. With a wide, innocent smile, he offered it back to Ling, who didn’t take it. In unison, he, Yao, and Chien-Po reached inside their dresses and pulled out various pieces of fruit that they had used as false breasts.

Zhu stared at Yao in utter confusion. Somehow, he had managed to make a _banana_ look like a convincing breast.

And then all hell broke loose.

Chien-Po slammed a pair of watermelons over the twins’ heads. Then, grabbing their shoulders, he smashed them into each other, shattering the watermelons. They fell to the ground, knocked unconscious by the blows.

As Mundzuc rushed forward with his sword drawn, Ling shoved the uneaten apple into his mouth. He then kneed him in the gut, making him double over.

Zhu couldn’t see what Ling did next thanks to Yao, who had grabbed Edeco’s arm and easily flipped him over his head. A grunt left Edeco’s mouth as he crashed into the stone floor, head-first. He crumpled into a heap; Zhu wondered if such a blow had possibly killed him.

But she could see Mulan easily knocking the bow from Bleda’s hands and pinning him to the floor. Snatching the fallen bow, she used it as a sort of garrote to further deter him from moving.

“Shang, go!” Mulan cried.

From around the corner, Shang came running. Zhu sprinted to the doors, shoving them open for him.

“The Emperor should still be alive,” she quickly informed him, watching as Shang hopped over Edeco. “He hasn’t been up there more than five minutes.”

Shang gave her a quick nod of thanks before sprinting up the stairs.

A quiet hiss of pain left Zhu’s mouth and she leaned against the doorframe, her hands pressing against her hip. Feeling dampness, she looked down only to find that her wound from the previous day had reopened and was quickly staining her shirt with blood.

Something shifted in the corner of her vision and she looked up, seeing Mulan coming towards her; Bleda was now unconscious, a red-handprint forming on his cheek.

“You okay?” Mulan asked, worry on her face.

Zhu nodded, surprised that she was still concerned about her after everything. “I hope I bought you guys enough time.” She glanced over at the others, swallowing hard when she saw them looking at her with uncertainty. “You four need to get up there,” she quietly ordered. “Shang is no match for Shan Yu.”

Mulan glanced between Zhu and the balcony above. Biting her lower lip, she nodded and looked over her shoulder. “C’mon, guys!”

Zhu couldn’t bring herself to look at them as they ran by. Instead, with her hand still pressed to her hip, she went over to the elegant curtains draped over the windows and started undoing their sashes. She then went back to the group of unconscious elite.

‘I may not be able to kill them, but I can at least get them tied up for the guards,’ she thought as she rolled Ruga over onto his stomach.

She had just pulled his hands behind his back and was starting to tie him up when, from seemingly nowhere, she was struck upside the head. Though the blow wasn’t terribly hard, she tumbled to the floor and cursed as she landed on her injury. Before she could get up, the person grabbed the collar of her shirt and slammed her against the wall.

Mundzuc glared at her, his teeth barred. “How does it feel, knowing all your _friends_ are about to die?” he sneered.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that he gripped a small knife in his free hand. “Stop talking and just do it,” she snapped. “ _Kill me_.”

Confusion started to intermingle with the anger on his face. “That’s… _it?”_ he asked, leaning away ever so slightly. “No smartass comebacks? No taunting? You’re just giving up?” He looked almost disturbed.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she demanded. “I’m Shan Yu’s one and _only_ heir. When he is dead and things have calmed down, I’m going to be executed in front of the whole of China. _Death_ is my fate. What difference does it make if it’s dealt by an executioner or you?” Grabbing his wrist, she pulled his hand up to her throat and pressed the blade to her flesh. “You’ve wanted to slit my throat for _years_ —I _know_ you have. Well, this is your chance. _Take it_.”

Mundzuc didn’t move. Instead, he glanced between her face and the knife. Then, taking her by surprise, he pulled himself away from her. “You don’t _know_ a damn thing, Shan Zhu,” he hissed, slowly backing away. He looked down at the unstirring bodies of the other elite; all were still breathing, letting him know they were alive.

Then, looking back up at Zhu, he narrowed his eyes and turned from her, running away.

Her brows slowly rose in utter bewilderment and she raised her hand to her throat. Mundzuc had truly left her skin unmarred. After years of smacking her and threatening her life, he had refused to kill her.

But… _why_?

She didn’t have time to think it over very long. A familiar screech came from outside the palace, making her snarl in anger.

“ _Hayabusa_ ,” she hissed, sprinting to a window. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the sky for the falcon. He was flying lower now, keeping his predatory circling to just the palace. Her brow rose as she glanced over at Bleda. “Time to get some revenge.”

Taking the bow and quiver from Bleda, she ran down the hall, fastening the quiver around her waist. ‘I need to find _some_ way onto the roof and I need to stick to the shadows. But it’s not looking like there are any staircases leading further up…’

A small sigh left her mouth; she knew what she had to do. Punching through the latticework that shielded a window, she started tearing it apart. As she climbed onto the windowsill, she winced; her hip didn’t like that at _all_.

‘You’re still breathing,’ she told herself. ‘Keep fighting.’

Carefully standing up, she held onto the wall and leaned over. About six feet above her was the roof overhang. Between it and her, however, was not only a precarious climb, but the edge of the roof was a good three feet from the wall.

“So be it,” she murmured, slinging the bow over her shoulder.

Zhu started to climb. It was difficult; the edges of wooden supports and decorations that jutted out from the wall were only an inch or two wide at _most_. Having to pull herself up by her fingertips was not only exhausting, but painful as well. More than once, one of her feet slipped off an edge and she felt a rush of panic. But her years of training as a Hun kept her calm and she was able to regain her footing.

Finally, she was able to grab hold of a stone statue of a guardian lion. Hauling herself up, she perched on the beam and squinted, trying to think of how to get to roof’s edge.

‘There is nothing between here and there for me to hold onto,’ she thought, hearing faint sounds of commotion inside the palace. Tilting her head back, she found that, if she were to stand, she’d be forced to stoop thanks to the roof’s height. She smirked, her brow rising.

She sprang upwards. Shards of wood and pieces of clay tile went flying as she burst through the roof. Landing in a crouched position, she rubbed the top of her head; the roof had been made of harder wood than she was expecting. Zhu knew well enough that, if she didn’t have Hun blood in her veins, the jump would have killed her.

Standing, she hurried to the very top of the roof. She unshouldered the bow and drew an arrow from the quiver. As she nocked it, her eyes scanned the sky for Hayabusa.

‘I know you’re up here,’ she thought, reaching the top. ‘But wh-’

She cried out as talons lashed out at her, knocking her down. Tiles shattered and fractured under her weight. Hearing a sound like rain, she swore and rolled over; the precious few arrows she had had been flung out of the quiver and were rolling away.

“No, no, no!”

Zhu tried to scramble after them, but they had rolled too far ahead of her. As the last one fell from the roof, she desperately tried to grab at it. She missed it by just a hairsbreadth.

“Spirits, damn you,” she growled, brows furrowing. “At least I still have _one_ …”

Reaching the top of the roof again, she was shocked to find Mulan climbing atop it from the other side. “Mulan!? What are you doing up here?”

“I have a plan,” she said, voice breathless. Her face was red and sweaty from exertion. “It’s—it’s risky.” She glanced past Zhu at one of the palace towers. Zhu looked as well only to feel her stomach drop.

The tower was where the fireworks were being fired from.

“It’s the only way, Zhu,” Mulan said, her voice pleading. “I know he’s your uncle, but—”

“It won’t work if I don’t kill that damned bird,” Zhu interjected. She looked back at Mulan. “Do _whatever_ it takes, Mulan. I mean it.”

Their gazes met and, with a small nod, Mulan took off up the center beam. Zhu crouched down where she was, once more searching for Hayabusa. She finally spotted him over the southern tower. Slowly, she nocked the arrow once more and raised the bow.

But before she could draw back the string, the roof exploded a few feet from Mulan. Shan Yu landed in a crouch, breathing heavily as he glared at the woman. As he stood, a victorious smirk slowly spread across his face when he found that the only ‘weapon’ Mulan had was a fan.

“Looks like you’re out of ideas,” he taunted.

Zhu’s eyes darted upwards. His wings folded, Hayabusa was diving towards Shan Yu who held his full attention.

“Spirits, guide this arrow,” she whispered, drawing back the bowstring. “Help me end my uncle’s tyranny.”

Shan Yu lunged at Mulan, stabbing his sword at her. She dodged the attack, using her fan to catch his sword. Closing it, she twisted it around and forced the blade from Shan Yu’s hand. She jumped back, giving the sword a twirl so that the handle fell into her grip and the fan flew off the blade.

“Not yet,” she said, smirking.

From nowhere, something suddenly fell between the two of them. Both looked down, confused. There, splayed out none-too elegantly on the beam between them, was Hayabusa. Skewering him was an arrow.

Before he could react, Mulan kicked Shan Yu backwards. As he fell, she used the sword to pin his tunic to the wooden beam. He glanced back at her, confusion and anger on his face. Grabbing his sword, he easily pulled it from the beam. When he narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, Mulan frowned somewhat in confusion.

Not two minutes ago, his eyes were black and gold. But now, they looked _normal._

There wasn’t time to ponder his eyes. She started to back away from him, her heart racing. Mushu should have had the rocket ready by then—where was he? Did he run into trouble? And where was Zhu? Had she run away, not wanting to see her uncle die?

Shan Yu stalked towards her, a snarl intermingled with his confusion. Something made him stop and he clenched his eyes shut; he raised a hand to his head as if he were in pain. Shaking his head, he raised his sword, staring directly at Mulan. It almost seemed like he was fighting _himself_.

She bit her lower lip and glanced away, fully expecting to die.

“Uncle Yu!”

Daring to peek, Mulan watched as Shan Yu spun around. Zhu was half running, half limping towards them, her face filled with pain. The confusion that had been on Shan Yu’s face left, replaced by realization and horror.

“Little one?” Shan Yu gasped. “My little one, what’s going—” He grunted and stumbled back a few feet as Zhu threw herself at him. Dropping his sword, he caught her, and held her close to him. “My little one…you were right. I betrayed our people. I led them to ruin. I _hurt_ you.” Falling to his knees, he clenched his eyes shut and hugged onto her tighter. “I’m sorry, my little one. I’ve been such a horrible uncle to you. I’m so sorry…”

“No, Uncle Yu,” Zhu choked out, knuckles white as she gripped the back of his tunic. She could feel his body shaking as he cried. “ _Hayabusa_ led them to ruin. _Hayabusa_ hurt me. Not you. You were a wonderful uncle.”

“I should have never made that deal.”

“It’s over now, Uncle Yu. Hayabusa’s dead. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, little one. I’m sorry for _everything_.”

Something moved beyond them. Leaning to the side, Mulan could see Mushu standing on the opposite end of the roof, a rocket strapped to his back.

“Zhu, you need to—” she started.

“No,” Zhu sobbed. “ _No_. I deserve this, Mulan. I deserve this for all the pain I put you and the others through.”

Mulan stared at her in horror, though she could feel tears beginning to sting her eyes. “Zhu, you _don’t_ deserve this!” she pleaded.  From the corner of her eye, she could see Mushu lighting a stick. “Please, Zhu! There’s not much—”

“I either die here or I die on the execution block.” She swallowed hard and looked at Mulan. “ _Please_. As—as my best friend, Mulan, _please._ Let me die in a way of my choosing.”

“I’ll miss you,” Mulan said, her voice shaking.

Zhu managed to smile. “I’ll miss you, too. Now go—get off the roof.”

Her order couldn’t have been better timed. Mulan dove out of the way as the rocket came hurtling towards them. An intense, burning pain filled Zhu’s back as she and Shan Yu were sent flying. Seconds before impact, she opened her eyes for one last look at the world.

And then all went white.

 

 

To be continued in [_Daughter of Rebirth_ …](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088069)

 


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